


A Change of Heart (Volume I)

by theseshipswontsink



Category: Harris Toyles - Fandom, Harry Styles - Fandom, Larry Stylinson - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theseshipswontsink/pseuds/theseshipswontsink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not a love story. Harry and Louis hated each other, misunderstood each other, only contributed to the problems they already carried on their backs. But things started changing when Harry had to make a decision to secure his and his mother's future, and Louis had to re-evaluate his life as Harry became a part of his. Whether or not they'd make it through together or try to tear each other to shreds in their own separate downfalls is the question even they asked themselves countless times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You know when you hate someone? Like really really hate someone to the point that every time you see them you just want to gauge your eyes out? Well, that’s how Harry and Louis felt towards each other. So you can imagine how they felt when they were told that they had to marry each other. That’s right--an arranged marriage. You see, the two families have been friends for years and when Harry’s parents got a divorce, Anne lost her job not long after. With no money for Harry to go to college and the house about to be foreclosed on, the Tomlinsons offered a solution. Their sons would marry; this way Harry and Anne would have money and Louis would get a change in perspective by learning from Harry. Louis was known as the reckless rough-houser while Harry was more of a sensible and considerate type. Right now, both of the families were at Harry’s house for dinner and the boys were just told about the news.

“You're joking right? There is no way in hell I'm marrying that douche!” Harry said, pointing at Louis, a reaction that was quite out of character for him. Anne placed a hand on her son's arm, scoldingly.

Louis scoffed, raising his eyebrows at Harry. "The feeling's mutual. I'd be doing you a favor by going through with this," he shot back, and his mum glared at him. Anne squeezed Harry's hand, trying to get him to calm down.

"I'm sorry, Jay. Maybe this isn't such a good idea..." she said, and Louis was about to agree when his mother cut him off.

"Anne, I insist. It'll be a good decision for all of us, I just have a good feeling about this." Louis stared at Jay.

"But it's  _my_  life!" he argued. "You expect me to settle down with  _that_  for the rest of my life?!" he asked, gesturing violently at Harry.

"Oh, trust me, you're not that all that." Harry rolled his eyes and started to tear up. "I hate this! Why do I have to marry him! He's an asshole, douche, he sleeps with anything that walks and he doesn't even have a heart." He looked at his mom. "I hate this and I hate you!" He got up and ran up stairs, slamming the door behind him.

The room fell into a shocked silence at Harry's outburst. Jay suggested Anne go up and talk to him and she shook her head.

"I'm not going to ruin my relationship with my son just because we're in a bad financial situation," she argued, getting teary-eyed, and Jay sighed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen. We were just trying to help." Louis saw Anne crying and the words 'he doesn't even have a heart' echoed in his mind. He sighed, getting up.

"I'll go talk to him," he said, and the two mothers looked at him in surprise. "Nobody needs to be sacrificing anything, just let me fix this," he explained, speaking calmly. He headed upstairs to Harry's room, knocking lightly on the door.

"Go away, Mom!" he shouted as he buried his face in his pillow. This wasn't fair; why did he have to marry that nasty douche bag! All Louis ever did was bully him and call him names and just be a complete asshole. If he had to marry, why couldn't it have been someone nicer or someone he actually liked...or loved, like it's supposed to be.

 Louis turned the doorknob, slightly, entering anyways. "It's me," he said, poking his head through the door. "I just want to talk."

Harry looked up and glared at him "You are the last person on this planet that I wanna talk to," he said through his teeth.

Louis held back a snarky reply. "Look, I'm not your biggest fan either, okay? But our families are best friends, and my parents just want to help you. We don't have to get along, but you know your mum is struggling and you need to go to university and get a job and support yourself. Once that happens, we can get a divorce and we won't have to look at each other ever again," he negotiated.

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "I can't believe you're actually considering this, we have to fucking live in the same house for crying out loud! And I don't feel like being woken up every night by your loud moans and screams when you're fucking some dude you bring home."

Louis shook his head, refraining from punching Harry right then with his assumptions. "I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing this for Anne. She's a nice lady, and my mum's best friend. So if you're willing to work it out, so am I. And I'll be sure not to disrupt your book-reading and poetry hours, you prudish nun."

"Fuck you, asshole. Now get out of my room! I don't want to see you until I have to!" he shouted back.

Louis groaned in frustration. "God, you're impossible!" he yelled in response, before slamming Harry's door and heading back down and out the front door, calling to Anne. "I tried, but your son's ridiculous!" Anne buried her face in her hands, mentally exhausted, and Jay got up from her seat and sat down beside her.

"It'll be okay. We'll figure something out..." she consoled. "Harry, could you please come down here?" she called out.

Harry groaned and opened his door thinking it was his mom "Is the twat gone?" he called.

Jay stood up. "If you're referring to my  _son_ , then yes, but he is not a twat, and you get your judgmental arse down here right this second!" she demanded, and Anne looked up as well.

"Harry, that's incredibly disrespectful, especially considering what a gesture this is."

"I don't care!!" He walked to the top of the steps. "And you think  _I'm_ judgmental, why don't you ask your son what he does to me at school?!" he said to Jay. "Go ahead, ask him what he calls me, ask him what he does to me. Ask him!"

Jay took a step back, and Anne stood up then. "Where'd Louis go anyways?"

He then re-entered through the front door, glaring up at Harry, daring him to keep his mouth shut, but when he saw he wasn't budging, he looked at Jay. "Fine. Harry's bullied at school. Not by just me, but by  _everyone_. And yeah, maybe I start it. Why? Because all he cares about is his studies and his books and art and being a  _saint_. Dad's always blowing up on me, asking 'why aren't you like Harry, why can't you be a good person like Anne's kid'? Well, I'm sick of being compared to him and now you're asking me to marry him?! Sorry I'm not fucking perfect or good enough for anyone!" he snapped, tears suddenly springing to his eyes as he looked at Harry.

Harry crossed his arms "Oh, what, now you;re gonna cry?" He smirked. "After finally admitting all you did, you're gonna put on the water works and pretend like you actually feel bad and want everyone to feel sorry for you?"

 Louis bit his lip to keep it from trembling. Anne gestured Harry to stop.

"You're being insensitive, Harry. Just stop, we've all had enough of this fighting."

Jay sighed, deeply. "I don't know what to do."

Louis kept his eyes locked on Harry. "Like I said, I was only going to do this for your mum. I don't want a pity party, and I could care less if you're homeless by tomorrow."

"And I'm the insensitive one." He shook his head. "You're unbelievable. Do you even have a heart?"

"Not for you," Louis replied, wiping his eyes, and leaving his house for good. Jay hugged Anne, apologetically, and left as well.

"I didn't expect this at all," she said, before shutting the door, and leaving Anne.

Harry looked at his mother. "And you expect me to marry  _that_?"

Anne didn't say anything. She got up from the couch. "I understand how you feel, but that whole scene was completely uncalled for. Do you not realize how much stress I'm under just to keep a roof over our heads, Harry? You don't have to help me, but please don't make it harder." She headed into the kitchen, wiping her eyes, miserably.

Harry walked down the stairs following her. "And you dont think this is stressful for me, you're forcing me to marry someone who makes my life a living hell."

 "I would never force you, Harry! I just don't see any other opportunity coming our way," she replied. "I want you to be with someone loving and caring and sweet, and I know Louis doesn't seem like it now, but I've seen him grow up. He's been through a lot, and it's no excuse, I know, but you could change things for him, just like he could for us," she explained. "But whatever you decide, I want it to be for your happiness. All I've worked for all these years is to keep my son happy after all." She smiled a little, patting Harry's cheek and then having to answer the phone when the bank called, again.

Harry watched his mom talk to the bank on the phone. His heart broke a little as he saw her mom begged for them to give her a few more days. He chewed on his lip. He couldn't stand seeing her like this. He left the kitchen and went to and out the front door. As he walked down the side walk, he knew that in a few minutes his life would change forever. But he wanted to do this for his mom. He walked up the driveway of the Tomlinson's house and knocked on the door.

Louis hesitated to open the door after seeing Harry through the peephole. He didn't want to get his mum involved, so he left through the back door of the house and met Harry around front. He looked at him for a moment, as he stood, waiting for a response, and finally called out from behind him. "What do you want?"

Harry turned around and stuck his hands in my pockets. "The bank called." He looked down. "W-we don't have many days left..."

Louis swallowed, trying to keep his eyebrows furrowed and his expression stern. "Is Anne okay?" he asked.

Harry bit his lip, He hated when Louis talked about his mom, wasn't like he cared in the first place. He looked up. "Look, I don't want to marry you, and I know you don't want to marry me, but I don't want everything my mom has worked so hard for to go to waste."

Louis blinked, looking away from Harry. He scratched his head, and nodded. "Okay," he said, plainly. After Harry had left, Louis spoke to his mum, who spoke to Anne, and arrangements had already begun for a summer wedding--the very thought made Harry cringe--after the boys finished up their year.

The bank waited for the marriage license to be finalized so Harry could legally pay off everything, and even though it was a matter of weeks, it all had happened so ridiculously fast, Louis found himself trying to wake up from this half-nightmare as he stood at the altar, waiting for Harry.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry flipped his hair a few times in the mirror. This was really happening. He took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. The door opened and he rolled his eyes. Let the torture begin.

The guests in the chapel all turned to face Harry, and Anne walked beside him, smiling at how handsome her little boy looked. Louis kept his eyes on the carpet in front of him, before finally turning to face Harry, who admittedly, did look incredible. He took a deep breath, as his future approached him.

When they finally made it to the altar, Harry kissed his Anne's cheek and felt her hand slide as it let go of his. Her son was getting married. He tightened his mouth at her and turned as he looked at Louis. His hair was styled to practical perfection, and he was standing with his legs a foot apart, his hands locked behind his back. He looked like he was getting arrested, and then Harry realized this did probably feel like a prison sentence to him. But he had to admit Louis was incredibly attractive in that tux.

 

Louis eyed Harry, involuntarily, and blushed, turning to face the priest, who began the ceremony. After what felt like hours, he asked Louis, "Do you, Louis William Tomlinson, take Harry to be your lawfully wedded husband..." Louis felt as if he could pass out as the priest recited their vows and finally said, "I do." He slipped the ring on Harry's left finger, realizing what a fucking massive hand he had. And that it was shaking.

 

Then he turned to Harry, repeating, "And do you, Harry Edward Styles, take Louis to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in..." Louis shut his eyes tight, knowing Harry wouldn't mean any of it.

 

"I guess..." Harry mumbled, as his eyes met his mother's as she was giving him a very dirty look. He sighed. "I do," he corrected himself. He looked back at Louis.  _Why the hell were his eyes closed?_  he thought to himself, as he slipped the ring down Louis's dainty finger.

 

"Then by the power invested in me, I hereby pronounce you, life partners. You may now kiss," said the priest, and Louis opened his eyes, blue meeting green, as he looked at Harry. Anne and Jay sat, dreading the possibility that the two couldn't even bring themselves to kiss, but surprisingly, Louis leaned forward, pulling Harry in by his waist, and kissing him like he actually might have meant it and not completely hating the moment.

 

Harry actually kissed back. Wasn't like he wanted to, he just thought he might as well try so that Anne will be happy. But he had to admit Louis was an amazing kisser. Why was he even acknowledging anything positive about this fucking asshole anyways?!

 

Louis lingered a bit, surprised neither of them pulled back. Hearing the clapping and cheering, Louis finally pulled away, and looked at Harry. People were whistling and exclaiming in the background, but Louis just kept staring at his newly titled husband. "...we're married," he finally said.

 

Harry laughed softly and shook his head. "I can't believe this is happening." He didn't say it in a rude way, it was more of a humorous way, after the kiss had softened him up a bit, more used to Louis's aggression, not his tender kisses. He stood there looking at everyone who were oblivious to the reality of this situation--Harry and Louis's friends and family genuinely believing this was real-- then looked at Louis and smiled, raising an eyebrow, self-consciously. "Why are you staring at me..."

 

Louis repeated, "We're married." He scoffed and chuckled to himself, in disbelief. The guests cleared out to the exit of the chapel, and Jay led the way. Anne walked up to the couple, grabbing both of their hands and guiding them outside.

 

"We've arranged for a surprise," she said, smiling, as they stepped outside, where a convertible was parked, with decorations and the back windshield reading, 'Just Married, Mr. & Mr. Stylinson'. Anne looked back at her son and son-in-law.

 

"Isn't it cute?" she asked, and Louis's hand dropped.

 

"Adorable.." he said, trying to take it all in.

 

"Stylinson?" Harry giggled "Is that really my new last name?"

 

"Well, on your marriage license, no. But that's what it says on your card and honeymoon package to Paris," Jay answered, approaching and handing the pair their tickets.

 

"Honeymoon? Mum, you said--" Louis disputed, but Jay raised her hand.

 

"This is still a wedding, and a wedding calls for a honeymoon, doesn't it?" she asked, and Anne nodded in agreement. Louis looked at Harry. "Well, we shouldn't let a trip to France go to waste..."

 

Harry sighed. "Well, lucky for you I've always wanted to go to France." He kissed his mother and Jay's cheek. "Thanks for everything, Jay, and I wanted to apologize for everything that went down that night."

 

Jay shook her head. "All is forgiven. I just want my boys to enjoy a little break from the stress we've all been experiencing." Louis fought back the urge to roll his eyes. ' _Sure, relieve my stress by sending me on a romantic getaway with someone who hates my guts and who I want to strangle. This is so twisted_ '.

 

He sighed, walking down the steps towards the car. Jay coughed, gesturing to Harry. Louis sighed again, walking back up, taking Harry's hand, and heading back down, as the crowd cheered more.  _Piss off,_ Louis mentally shouted.

 

Harry looked at their hands and blushed only a little. Their hands fit terribly perfectly together. "You're driving," he said as he let go of Louis's hand and got in the passenger's seat. He looked at his mother and Jay. They both had tears in their eyes. Harry felt his heart swell,  unsure what his mother was even feeling, what he was either.  _Why doesn't this feel as wrong as it should?_

 

 Louis turned the key, surprised Jay didn't pay for a driver. He was thankful, though, because it meant no awkwardness in the backseat. He noticed a note on the dashboard, telling the boys their luggage was all prepared in the trunk. Louis chuckled. Their mothers had everything planned to the tee. He drove off to the airport, keeping the radio on, to avoid conversation.

 

 Harry looked down at his hands the whole ride there. He fiddled with the tickets. This was really happening, he was about to get on a plane to go to another country with the guy he hated the most. But for some reason, Harry felt his feelings slowly changing for Louis. Maybe it was the way he caught Louis staring at him after the ceremony. It wasn't that he had feelings for him. Because it was impossible for Harry to fall for someone as awful as Louis. But there was just something. He wasn't happy one bit about going on the trip, but he wasn't dreading it.


	3. Chapter 3

Pulling over in the reservation lot, Louis got out of the car, and chivalrously opened the door for Harry and grabbed the luggage out the back, without saying a word. He just left Harry with the tickets, not wanting him to do anything extra. They walked through the glass doors of the airport, checked in, and within an hour or so post-security, were seated beside each other, headed to Paris. Louis noticed Harry's hands clenched and knew he was nervous. "We can check into separate rooms, if you want," Louis had said, when they arrived to their single honeymoon suite.

 

Harry was looking around the hotel. Paris was gorgeous. He looked at Louis and shook his head. "No, it's fine, we're married right?" he said, still a little dazed by the beautiful building

 

Louis took his coat off and slung it onto the hook by the door. "Right," he replied, turning back around and flopping down on the bed. "It's been a long day, I'm exhausted."

 

Harry took off his jacket and unbuttoned the shirt he'd changed into at the airport, getting out of the suffocating suit and switching it for the comfort of what his mother had packed in his carry on. He almost dreaded finding condoms in there and some awkward note that said "be safe, love you xx" He shuttered, shaking the thought from his head. "Me too." He yawned and sat on the couch.

 

Louis kicked his shoes off and turned around on his back, when he noticed Harry settling on the couch. "Why are you taking the couch?" he asked, slightly offended.

 

Harry looked over at him "I thought since you were on the bed, I would take the couch." He shrugged. "Didn't want to make things awkward."

 

Louis frowned, still offended. "We're married, right?" he said, quoting Harry. "We just kissed and flew hundreds of miles to share a room with a heart-shaped bed, and you're going to take the couch?" Louis couldn't help himself, though he knew how overly touchy he was being about someone he could not and would not have feelings for.

 

Harry stood up. "Well..."

 

Louis furrowed his eyebrows at him and huffed, scooting over if he decided to change his mind, scooting over to what would become known as his side of their bed.

 

"Fine, we'll sleep in the same bed. Whatever makes you happy, babe." Harry walked over and jumped up the bed, not even noticing that he called Louis 'babe' a little too naturally, rather than sarcastically.

 

Louis scooted over more and blinked, second-guessing if he had just heard Harry's first moment of affection towards him. "Happiness is out of the question," he mumbled, returning to his bitter tone, snuggling up into his side of the comforter and blanket.

 

Harry rolled over and looked at Louis. He looked so small and child like from the back. That was until you got to his bum. That thing was huge, but in a good way, "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a big bum?" he asked as he stared at it.

 

Louis almost laughed. "Only everyone I've ever slept wi--" he stopped himself, and reworded his response. "Yeah, I've heard." He then rolled over. "Why are you looking at my bum anyways?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

 

Harry looked up at him, a few strings in his heart pulled. He knew how Louis was going to finish that sentence. "I wasn't." He rolled his eyes and rolled back over.

 

Louis frowned a little, knowing even though this wasn't a traditional marriage, it still had the same basic elements. He kept his eye on the back of Harry's neck, where his curls stopped. "Can I ask you something personal?"

 

Harry sighed.

 

"Harry..."

 

"Sure," he mumbled, not even bothering to turn toward him.

 

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" he asked, outright. "You've blown up on me quite a few times about my...activities...so I'm only guessing you take your first time pretty seriously, huh?"

 

Harry pulled the covers farther up. "I don't want to just give it away to just anyone..." he replied.

 

Louis nodded, respecting his opinion, but still a little hurt when he remembered some of the things Harry had said to him before. "So do you really think I'm a heartless douche who fucks anything that walks?" he asked out of curiosity, hiding the actual pain in his voice that someone could have such an opinion of him let alone that he was married to that someone.

 

Harry sighed and turned over. He looked Louis in the eyes. He knew Louis wasn't heartless, by the way he acted and cared for his mom. And what teenage boy didn't like sex. "I think you're a douche bag."

 

Louis smirked, slightly, appreciating that 2/3 of the insult was removed. "I guess it's a bit of an upgrade," he said, lightheartedly. He glanced at the clock past Harry's head and scoffed at himself for being in bed already. "It's only 9pm," he said, getting out of bed. "I don't know about you, but a night in Paris for me doesn't end at 9pm, no matter how jet lagged I am."

 

"And where do you plan on going?" Harry asked, still cuddled into the covers.

 

Louis scoffed. "Ever heard of the Eiffel Tower?" he asked, sarcastically as he started getting redressed to go out. "I can call room service to bring you a good novel to cuddle up with or something, if you want to stay here." It wasn't an outright invitation and Louis wouldn't have minded Harry coming with, but obviously, this wasn't a traditional honeymoon either.

 

Harry got out of bed "Do you really think I read that much?" He began pulling his shirt over his head to change into something more Parisian night out worthy.

 

"No," Louis replied with an honest smile. "But I'm nothing but a bully and a douche, remember?" he added, being a smartass. He stopped talking when he noticed Harry's define chest and abdomen. He coughed, snapping out of the trance. "So I'm assuming you're coming?"

 

"I'm not letting you see the Eiffel Towel without me." He opened his suitcase pulling out some sweats and shirt. "Now turn around. so I can change."

 

Louis crossed his arms. "Why are you acting like this is a sleepover? We're married, Harry. I don't even plan on having sex with you, so just dress and hurry up," he whined, turning around anyways. "You're half naked already anyways."

 

Harry stuck out his tongue and took off his pants quickly putting his new clothes on, a little more than offended though. "Alright, you can turn back around."

 

Louis did, and then shook his head at how childish Harry was being. "Virgins, these days," he teased, grabbing his coat and heading out the door, which he again held open for Harry.

 

Harry rolled his eyes and walked out. "Can I ask you a question now?" he asked as they headed to the elevator.

 

Louis pressed the button for the first floor. "Sure."

 

"How many people have you slept with?" he asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

 

Louis stared at him, a little caught off guard. "I..." He sighed, a little embarrassed. "Eleven."

 

Harry nodded and walked into the elevator "Do I know any of them?" he asked, pressing the lobby button.

 

"Probably not," he replied, though a couple had been at the wedding. He waited for the doors to ring open. "Not your type of people anyways," he added, when they finally did open.

 

"And what are my type of people?" he raised an eyebrow and followed him.

 

"Good people," Louis replied, sincerely. The people Louis typically associated with weren't like Harry, and that wasn't something he was very proud of, and the only reason Jay had even let them come to the wedding was out of compromise. He pocketed his hands, and continued walking, exiting the hotel.

 

Harry crossed his arms "Why do you keep calling me good? I'm not a saint. Even if you say it sarcastically."

 

"Because that's what my dad thinks of you," he answered, not looking at Harry.

 

"But what do you think of me?" He looked at him, biting his lip.

 

Why does it matter? Louis kept walking, crossing the street to reach the walkway that led towards the Eiffel Tower. He didn't respond, expecting Harry to just follow and shut up so they could see the damn tower.

 

Harry sighed and followed. "Okay, you don't have to answer. Just trying to break the ice a little."

 

Louis remained silent, and looked up in awe of the towering structure that was all illuminated with twinkly lights, just like the films, as he heard musicians playing by the rosebushes for tourists and couples out for late night strolls. He gazed up towards the stars, completely speechless.

 

Harry looked up as well, his mouth fell open just a tad. The tower was just breathtaking. He's seen the Tower a million times in books and the internet, but in person, right in front of him... it was just ten times more beautiful. It was lit up and the stars in the sky just made everything a million times better.

 

Louis looked back down and turned to Harry, watching his green eyes twinkle at the sight of it all. "Do you want to go up?" he asked him, invitingly.

 

Harry didn't dare tear his eyes away from the tower. He just nodded, speechless.

 

Louis waited for Harry to follow, but sighed, knowing he'd have to drag him. He grabbed Harry's hand, guiding him to the elevator and through the floors, not letting go of his hand to keep him from tripping. For whatever reason, he was completely mesmerized by the landmark.

 

Harry bit his lip and looked down the whole time. They were in the elevator with two other couples. One was a slightly older couple. Probably in their late 20s the other was a lovely old couple. The old man held the old woman in his arms reassuring her everything was gonna be okay. She was probably scared of height or something.

 

Louis glanced over to Harry, noticing he wasn't as focused on the lights anymore. "What's wrong?" he asked, still holding Harry's hand without even realizing it.

 

Harry looked up at him and smiled softly. "Nothing."

 

Truth was Harry was a little hurt and torn from the fact that he would never have a real relationship where he actually liked the person from the start. He would never be like the old couple. This wasn't love.


	4. Chapter 4

The doors opened and they all walked out atop the balcony, Louis letting go of Harry's hand and heading to the railing. He leaned over, carelessly, looking at all the ant-sized people below. He gasped in awe of the height they were at and turned to notice a couple having an intimate moment kissing and then to his left was an older man giving his jacket to his wife and rubbing her back as she stared out into the city. Louis turned back to face Harry, assuming it must be incredibly disappointing for him to be somewhere so romantic and not have an ounce of love for the person you're with.

Harry places his hands on the railing and looked out at the view himself. "Its so beautiful" he said softly. not really directing it to anyone in particular

Louis looked at Harry, sadly. "Yeah.." he agreed. A tour guide and waiter arrived at the top floor, approaching the couples and offering them wine. When he approached Louis and Harry, he presented Louis the tray with a variety of selections. Louis thanked him, taking a glass.

"And for your boyfriend?" the waiter asked. Louis looked at Harry.

"Oh, he--no, we're actually..." he stammered, not knowing what to say.

Harry smirked to himself. He turned to the waiter and smiled. "Isn't he just too cute? I guess he's still a little shocked about today. We just got married." He took a glass and looked at Louis, flashing him his wedding ring as a reminder. "Don't worry, babe, it's me and you forever now." He smiled and took a sip, deciding to play along for the hell of it.

The waiter frowned, a little disappointedly, and walked away. Louis looked back at him and then turned to Harry. "Who knew you could act?" he said, taking a sip as well.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me." He smirked and took another sip.

"I know like, nothing about you," Louis pointed out, suddenly realizing that the amount of time he spent bullying Harry he could have spent actually getting to know him. That is, if he didn't despise him and actually gave a fuck.

"Wouldn't expect you to." He looked back over the railing.

"I'm sorry," Louis said, downing his glass of wine, and looking intently at Harry.

"Why do you bully me?" he asked, taking another sip and looking back at him.

Louis looked down and sighed. "I don't know..." he said, quietly. "To make myself feel better...never works, though. Especially when my parents won't shut up about you." He scratched his chin. "Jealousy, I guess."

"Of me?" Harry laughed. "The last person you should be jealous of is me."

"Why not?" he asked. "You're smart, you're good-looking, you're going to go to university and put that all to use and become rich and successful, divorce me, and I'm back to being a disappointment to my parents." He didn't know if it was the wine or something else, but Louis was just spewing blatant truth right now.

"You think I'm good looking?" He raised an eyebrow.

Louis shrugged. "Made marrying you a little bit more tolerable," he replied with a smirk and shrug, reverting back to his less serious side.

Harry smiled softly. Truth was he was a little flattered "I think the wine is getting to your head, maybe we should go back to the hotel."

Louis nodded, when his phone buzzed. It was a text from his mum, saying, "Send me a pic from your honeymoon! Appropriate pls love youu xx" Louis cringed at Jay's suggestion that he and Harry had already done it. He held his phone out and stood next to Harry. "Your mother-in-law wants a picture," he said, smiling at the camera.

Harry leaned in and smiled as well. His cheek was right next to Louis's, almost touching.

The flash went off, and Louis reviewed the picture, smiling to himself. He pocketed his phone and poked Harry's cheek. "Nice dimple," he said. "Now let's get going."

Harry blushed and put his still half full glass on a table with the rest of the glass and followed Louis back to the elevator. He yawned softly.

Louis bumped into the waiter again, who offered him a second glass on the house, and Louis smiled, gladly taking the free drink, which was the first of many. He downed it before they even reached the elevator, and appreciated French wine because it was stronger than typical wine and that meant he wouldn't have to feel anything for the duration of the trip, something that had been giving him jitters for hours. He got back in the elevator, no longer reaching for Harry's hand.

Harry absent mindedly reached for Louis' hand as he yawned once more. "So you never told me what you thought of me..."


	5. Chapter 5

Harry absent mindedly reached for Louis' hand as he yawned once more. "So you never told me what you thought of me..."

Louis blinked, lazily, and turned to look at Harry. He didn't know how to express what he thought of him, for the past nearly two decades of their families knowing each other or the past few hours they'd been married. Deciding he could easily blame it on the alcohol later, Louis leaned over, kissing Harry softly.

Harry froze for a second, but then slowly gave into the kiss. He had kissed Louis once before at the wedding, but this was different. Mostly on Louis' part. it was probably just the alcohol.

Louis didn't stop, even stepping forward, allowing Harry to lean against the far wall of the elevator, since it was just the two of them in there this time. When he pulled away, he fixed Harry's collar for him and leaned back to where he was standing.

Harry bit his lip and stared at Louis. Why did he do that? He was just wanted to kiss him again so badly. Louis lips were just so.....perfect. Stop.

Louis bit his lip as well, looking straight ahead at the door. "Sorry if that was unexpected," he apologized. "But you asked me and I couldn't find the words."

"S-so what did that mean?" he asked, slightly confused.

Louis thought about it for a moment. There was no reason to not just say it, really. "It means I like you...?" he said, as casually as possible, but it almost sounded self-doubtful, which kind of hurt Harry. Then Louis turned to Harry, jokingly annoyed. "You know, for a smart guy, you're really not that bright."

Harry blushed harder and look down at his feet, fiddling with his fingers.

"Why do you do that?" Louis asked, nudging Harry lightly. "Shut down and get all shy, fiddling with your hands and looking down every five seconds."

Harry didnt look up he just shrugged."This is all kind of new for me..." he mumbled.

"You mean you're 18 and you've never been married?" he asked, sarcastically. When he saw that Harry wasn't laughing, his smile faded as well. "Wait...wait. Was I..." he paused. "Harry, have you ever kissed anyone before? Before today at the chapel?" he asked, not realizing the extent to which Harry's life had changed.

Harry bit his lip and fiddled with his fingers more. Great, this was so embarrassing.

"Wow," Louis said, raising his eyebrows. "Honestly did not expect that." He knew Harry was conservative when it came to any form of intimacy, but someone that attractive couldn't be a virgin much less someone whose never kissed anyone before at eighteen. "Nothing to be ashamed of!" he quickly added, as they started walking. "I'm sorry it had to be me then."

Well, I'm not. "It's okay..." he said softly, "It's not like it's something that's really a big deal. I mean it's hard to get kissed when you've never had a boyfriend or much less an actual friend-friend." Classmates were different, his mother was different. Louis was rapidly being so many of Harry's firsts, it was almost terrifying. Correction. It was terrifying.

Louis looked down, ashamed, because he was part of the reason for that. "I'm sorry about all the crap you've gone through...especially the stuff that was my fault and especially this marriage," he said, sadly.

"Thanks..." he mumbled, though he didn't really want any pity. He looked over at Louis "And I'm sorry for calling you all those names and stuff, I was out of line."

"I've been called worse," he said, waving away Harry's apology.

Harry opened the hotel door for Louis, following him to the elevator that was already opened. He pushed their floor number and watched the doors close. "You wanna......start over?"

Louis cocked his head back, surprised at Harry's suggestion. Maybe the honeymoon phase really is that period of time when everything seems like rainbows and butterflies and problems drift away. Sort of. Harry was making an effort as much as he was, and he had to give him that. He examined his face for any sign of ingenuity, then smiled when he couldn't find one. "Sure. I'd like that."

Harry smiled softly and the doors opened; they made their way into their room and Harry flopped down on the bed.

Louis repeated his clothes tossing from earlier, and fell down beside Harry. "Okay, now, I'm actually exhausted."

Harry chuckled, tiredly, and yawned. "Me too." He closed his eyes.

Louis watched Harry's eyes flutter shut, and couldn't stop himself the second time that night, leaning forward and kissing Harry. It was a quick peck that time, mostly just to say good night.

Harry kissed back as if a reflex. Why does this feel so natural..

Louis smiled, his eyelids feeling heavy. He tossed the blanket over the two of them and drifted off, lying beside his husband.

Harry scooted closer and cuddled into Louis' side, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist. He almost felt him shutter, and thought maybe that was too brave of a move, and almost slid his hand off Louis's hip when he felt him grab it and place it back where it was. Harry smirked. So domineering for being the slightly more "compact" of the two.

Louis breathed in deeply, taking in Harry's scent as he scooted closer, wrapping his arm around Harry's. He ran his hand up and down his shoulder blade, like holding him was the only sense of comfort he'd ever find. 

Harry could still smell the lingering sweetness of wine, and accredited that for being the reason Louis was being so lovey-dovey. Or maybe it was the atmosphere. Louis hiccuped. Nope. Definitely wine.

Still, Harry laid his head on Louis' chest, finally drifting fully off to sleep. What the fuck am I doing? he thought before he floated away, but once again, contradicted himself. He sighed, resettling into his side of the bed after pulling himself from Louis. He was treading on dangerous ground right now.

Louis groaned, softly, annoyed at the sudden detachment. "Har-hiccup-ry."

"Go to sleep, Louis. I'll see you in the morning." 

Louis's eyes were closed, and he didn't want to open them to see how far away Harry had scooted from him out of some revived hate or whatever. Whatever happened to starting over, though? He sighed, knowing it was easier said than done to just let go of all hostile feelings for each other, even if new ones were emerging. Less hostile ones..what? No. 

Louis hiccuped again, and Harry sighed. God, everything I do annoys him! He frowned, opening his eyes and staring at Harry's back in the darkness, which was only slighted by a thin moonlight from outside their balcony window. 

Yes, Harry was only a foot or so distance from Louis. But he never felt so far away. Louis rolled over, not wanting to look at him, until he ultimately had to tomorrow morning. Who knew what bipolar mood Harry would be in tomorrow...or Louis...I'm sorry, WHAT is going on? When did falling asleep become so hard? Especially with the amount of wine consumed tonight. Oh God, fuck tomorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

Louis awoke the next morning, his legs somehow tangled back in Harry's. He smiled involuntarily, holding back a laugh at how Harry had completely knocked out, his cheek pushed up against the pillow and his eyebrows furrowed like he was concentrated on staying asleep. Louis slid out of bed, quietly, deciding to shower and freshen up before breakfast. Maybe he could tolerate this.

Harry woke up about half an hour later. He sat up and stretched, running his fingers through his hair. He turned his head toward the bathroom hearing the shower turn off.

Louis stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He reached for his toothbrush and was brushing, when he walked out, expecting to have Harry be asleep while he grabbed his clothes from his suitcase, but seeing Harry well awake, Louis pointed to the pair of plaid pajamas and a striped jumper lying on the end of the bed. "Could you bring me my clothes, babe?" he said, as if 'babe' just rolled off his tongue. He froze at how married they already seemed.

Harry stretched again and nodded, shyly. "Sure." He got out of bed and grabbed Louis' clothes. As he walked closer to him he couldnt help but stare, Louis had the sexiest body he had ever seen. Outright. Tanned skin and a defined torso, and God, it was hot. The steam emerging from the shower door behind him wasn't making this any less arousing, either. He handed Louis the clothes, still not taking his eyes off his body

Louis was about to thank him, when he caught him staring. He smirked, taking the toothbrush out of his mouth. "Everything alright?" he asked, tilting his head.

Harry snapped his head up. "Y-yeah..." he stuttered.

"Don't get too attached," Louis warned, cheekily. "We're getting divorced soon, remember?" he said, as he headed back into the bathroom to rinse his mouth.

Harry frowned a little and looked down. "Yeah..." he whispered and laid back on the bed.

When Louis reemerged from the bathroom, he noticed Harry moping on the bed. "Don't tell me one glass of wine got you hungover," he joked, sitting down beside him. He stroked the stray curls of his bed head, and asked, "Why're you so frowny?"

"Nothing.....just thinking." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, waving Louis's hand away. He'd only been with this boy for a day and was already beginning to do the one thing he swore he wouldn't. Fall. And it had seemed such an easier promise to keep when he and Louis were screaming at each other, not fucking cuddling and kissing and not making sense of anything of it.

Too much thinking.

Louis groaned. "You need to stop doing that. Just relax," he said, squeezing his arms and practically massaging him. "Honeymoons aren't for thinking."

"This isn't a normal honeymoon." He opened his eyes and looked up at Louis.

Louis noticed something different in Harry. Of course, it wasn't normal. They both knew that. "Well, yeah, but I thought we already covered what's happening, Harry. You don't have to be so sour about it, though."

"I'm not."

"You know the plan, so I don't get--"

"I know...." His eyes shifted around the room, trying to look at anything but Louis. But it really was his fault he was so sad and confused, whatever this feeling was. Yesterday, Louis admitted he liked him and now he was talking about divorce. What is in the wine in this country? Better yet, what is up with Louis?

"Harry, what's bothering you, just tell me.." Louis then asked, not wanting their little holiday to be ruined by undiscussed matters.

"It's nothing, really," Harry lied, restraining the truth--again. He stood up and went to his suitcase, grabbing his clothes and tooth brush heading to the bathroom and closing the door.

Louis looked down at the empty spot on the bed, where Harry was. He felt so confused and irritated and they were both young and naive and only a day ago hated each other and were now wanting to start off fresh, but that didn't mean it wasn't still incredibly complicated. Fuck!

While Louis spent this time mulling it over, he headed downstairs to the breakfast lounge, while Harry showered, where he met the waiter from the Eiffel Tower, who apparently worked two jobs to make ends meet as an art student. How original, Louis smirked. Still he spent some time chatting with him, as they ate breakfast, despite the waiter having made it obvious he was into Louis last night.

Harry made his way downstairs after getting dressed and brushing his teeth. He spotted Louis with the waiter from last night. An unexpected wave of jealousy instantly struck him. Jealousy? Or did he accidentally swallow some toothpaste and now his stomach was just bothering him....

Regardless, if that waiter thinks he's gonna get Louis, he is sadly mistaken. Harry decided since they're on their honeymoon, why not continue the bit of little fun. He denied how back and forth this was of him, because he didn't care. He didn't like the way that waiter was gazing at his husband. Legally binded husband. Meaning his. He walked over to the table and sat next to Louis.

"Hey, babe." He leaned over and kissed Louis' cheek. "Last night was amazing." He winked and bit his lip.

What the...? Louis looked up at him, confused, and then noticed within seconds, the waiter had excused himself, claiming he had to get back to work. Louis turned to Harry. "What was that?" he asked. "We were just talking."

"What was what?" he asked, feigning innocence. He picked a grape off Louis' plate and popped it into his mouth.

Louis watched him, narrowing his eyes. He blinked, finally catching on. "You're jealous."

Harry scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that." He grape another grape and ate it

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, realizing this was Harry becoming attached to him, this was Harry getting comfortable, and maybe even falling in love, and if there was one thing Louis was certain of in this whole mess was that despite Louis's own feelings for him, it was not a good idea to get mixed in with him. "So how much do you think university's going to even cost?" he asked, trying to revert the conversation back to what the real reason they got married was.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, I haven't really looked into any yet. I don't quite know what I wanna be." He leaned back in his chair, wondering why Louis brought it up so randomly.

"The sooner you set aside an amount, the sooner you're free to date a sexy and smart college boy," Louis said, speaking lightheartedly.

Harry shook his head, chuckling. "Oh, trust me, no sexy, smart college boy would want to date me." 

"Why's that?" Louis asked, curiously.

"Have you met me?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Louis answered, flatly. "Why do you sell yourself short of what you deserve?" he asked, more aggressively.

He shrugged again. "Because it's not like I deserve much. Even with the money being settled, it's not...I don't know. I'm not worth much..."

"Says who?" Louis persisted. "Who could make you feel like that?" And Harry's answer felt like a dagger piercing through Louis's chest.

"You."


	7. Chapter 7

"You." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and though, it should have been. Louis didn't want to believe he was that person. That incredibly shit.

"I mean, the whole school, really," Harry amended, seeing Louis's face flush with shame. He felt a bit bad for blaming him completely. But he also felt an odd twist of pleasure.

"Well, you can forget them," he argued, brushing it off. "Now you're off to university and it's all good livin' from there." He tried to motivate him by bringing up all the single guys that'd be there and how much more mature and less hateful people would be and the distance from his past and everything and surround himself with people perfect for him.

"All those people are going to be like, way out of my league, they would never go out with me..." he said, this time a little sadder. Why was Louis doing this? Did he not like him anymore? 

"Harry, enough of this self-pitying shit, my goodness," Louis said, gruffly. He took a sip of his tea, and sighed. "You're going to be fine. People will love you. They have to." Harry looked down, fiddling with his fingers on the table top. Louis sighed again, annoyed, pressing a hand on his to stop him. "Quit it, Harry."

Harry was about to apologize when he looked at Louis's hand. His ringless left hand. 

"Where's your ring?" Harry asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Louis lifted his hand.

"Oh. I took it off when I got in the shower. Must have forgot to put it back on."

Harry cocked his head, skeptically. "Hm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Louis sighed. Alright then. And then Harry answered anyways.

"How convenient of you to forget your wedding ring and then come strolling down here for a breakfast date with the ethnic Justin Bieber quiff-styled casanova over there," he said, bitterly.

"What are you implying?"

"Nothing."

Louis slammed his fist against the table, irritated. "What the fuck's the matter with you? Just talk to me, damn it! Admit it. You're jealous, which is stupid since we're not even fucking actually---" he stopped, noticing Harry's eyes lower again. When he looked back up at him, after a moment, Louis noticed it wasn't just plain jealousy. It was something else. "...I'll put it back on when we get upstairs."

"Don't bother," Harry mumbled, scooting his chair back and standing up.

"Harry."

"I'm going for a walk," he said, but Louis grabbed his wrist, standing up as well.

"I'm sorry if I offended you by not wearing the ring, but in my defense, it doesn't mean anything. There's nobody here we have to convince."

Harry bit his lip. Louis was apologizing, but saying all the wrong things afterwards. So last night at the Tower was more of an effort on his part, and Louis was just putting up with it. 

"You're right," he finally spoke, pulling his hand out of Louis's. "So me going for a walk alone on my honeymoon makes sense."

"It's mine, too," Louis reminded. "But it's your call." He looked at him, and Harry couldn't tell whether he was expecting an invitation or an excuse to go back to flirting shamelessly with the waiter.

Harry frowned. "It's your call as much as it is mine." 

"Jesus fucking Christ, let's just go on a fucking romantic walk then and convince all of western Europe we're in love!" Louis threw his hands up in defeat, before dragging Harry out of the hotel. Harry stifled a satisfied grin, but pretended to groan at him tagging along. 

A few feet outside the hotel, Louis stopped. "What?" Harry asked.

"I forgot something," he said, hurrying inside. Harry didn't know if he should follow, but before he could decide, Louis was already headed up. He waited outside for him, playing with the diamond on his finger, and sighing, sadly. Louis returned, hardly minutes later, and Harry dropped his hands immediately. 

"What did you forget?" he asked, noticing he came back empty-handed.

"Nothing, it was just..I thought I left the water running."

"I took a shower after you," Harry pointed out. "The water was off."

"Are we going to walk or not?" Louis snapped, looking at him. Harry didn't speak further, beginning the stroll. He glanced down, questioning if they should hold hands and a smile immediately formed on his lips at what he saw. 

Louis's ring glimmering as he walked. He had gone back up to put it back on. Still smiling, Harry reached for Louis's hand, and the shorter lad's eyes fell to their intertwined fingers up to meet Harry's eyes. He didn't argue, as they continued walking in silence.

Which eventually led to Louis catching a cab, ushering Harry in because 1) he was quite tired, 2) his palms were getting sweatier with the continued contact, and 3) he hated the height difference that became terribly obvious whenever they stood next to each other.

The driver asked, "Où voulez-vous aller?"

Louis blinked at him in confusion, with hardly any knowledge of French. "Sorry, we don't--"

"Nous aimerions aller au Louvre s'il vous plaît," Harry answered, and Louis's head shot to face him after the cab driver nodded, pulling out in the opposite direction they had been walking in.

"You know French?" Louis asked, impressed.

"No, it just came to me," Harry retorted, looking out the window. 

"Watch the sarcasm, Styles," he warned, nudging his shoulder slightly. Harry didn't say anything, sighing as they drove past a quaint little cafe, a couple sitting outside sharing a conversation and meal and exchanging loving looks. Louis frowned, wanting to change the subject again.

"Where did you ask him to take us?" he asked.

"You'll see."

Fighting off traffic, the lads arrived outside the massive art museum. Louis wasn't much of a culturally appreciative type of person, but Harry was and he seemed excited to go, so he feigned a mutual enthusiasm, and headed inside. 

There were plenty of tourists walking around as well as gallery guides directing people. Wanting to know more about the pieces, Harry joined a group, and Louis awkwardly followed, not really knowing what to do.

The gallery walker was a tall and slender woman, with a thick French accent, but not so thick that you couldn't understand her descriptions or overview of the history of each of the pieces. Louis watched as Harry's eyes traced the paint strokes and sculptures while walking down the hall. 

The rest of the group members were given time to just walk around, head to the gift shop, read from the pamphlets that had been handed out earlier, and distracted, Harry accidentally bumped into the tour guide.

"Désolé, mademoiselle," he apologized, and she raised her eyebrows at his accent and pronunciation.

"Not bad," she complimented, smiling softly at him. He smiled back, and Louis furrowed his eyebrows. 

"Merci," Harry said, with a gracious chuckle. Louis glared at him. 

"Is this your first time in Paris?" she asked, switching the hip she was leaning on, as she mentally undressed Harry. Louis could tell that's what she was doing because he sometimes made that face towards him too. Though he wasn't going to admit it anytime soon.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm on holiday."

Louis scoffed to himself, and Harry ignored him. Holiday? Tell her it's our honeymoon, you fucker!

 

The two chatted for a bit, and Louis bit his lip, frustrated, before walking away, in the direction of some nonsensical painting that he couldn't give two fucks about. Getting bored, he sat down on a cushioned bench, trying to block out the incoherent French in the background. 

 

"Lou," Harry's voice asserted after what felt like a long chat. Louis turned around, looking at him, sourly.

"What?"

"The group's moving on."

"So?"

"So...come on."

"I don't want to bother you and Marie Antoinette over there."

"Her name's Phoebe..." Harry corrected, before realizing what Louis meant. "Who's jealous now?" he teased, with an overly proud grin. Louis cocked an eyebrow.

"So you admit you were jealous?"

"What? No."

Louis stood up, smiling cheekily, but it was wiped off the second the guide returned, handing Harry her card. She slipped it into the pocket of the flannel he was wearing and patted it.

"There you are, Harry," she said, in a seductive voice. Louis watched Harry's eyes lower at her as he smiled, thanking her. Louis swallowed the knot in his throat, clenching his fists. She called the other guests together, as she continued walking, strutting her heels and being sure to keep her ass in direct view of Harry. He chuckled to himself, turning again to Louis.

"Come on, then."

Louis bit his lip, shaking his head as he looked to the ground. 

"Louis?"

No answer.

Harry stepped forward, but unable to place a comforting hand on Louis's shoulder before he shifted away quickly. 

"What makes you think I want to spend an afternoon in some fucking boring art museum? It's bland and I don't care for it," he snapped, suddenly. Harry furrowed his eyebrows, confused. What the hell just happened? And then out of spite, Louis added, "Which I guess makes sense considering it's the same opinion I have of you. Of course you'd pick the fucking Lover."

"It's pronounced Louvre," Harry corrected, fighting the tears pricking at his eyes. Louis was being so unnecessarily mean. Or for lack of a better word, a dick.

"Like I give a shit!" Louis shot back, and some people shot them looks. Harry nodded.

"No, of course you don't. What's new?"

"Piss off, Harry."

"Gladly," Harry replied. "Anything to get away from you," he spat, turning around, and joining the group as they turned a corner towards the surrealism and oil medium artwork. 

Louis watched Harry walk away, and he was biting his lip so hard, he thought his teeth were going to draw blood. 

Why was he feeling this? Why is this fucking happening?


	8. Chapter 8

Harry arrived back to his and Louis's honeymoon hotel suite several hours later, blowing off steam with the distance in Paris, and figuring he could just give Louis his time to get over that little bitch fest he had just displayed at the art museum. 

He slid the hotel key card down its slot, opening the door and finding Louis sprawled out on the bed. He sighed, feeling a little guilty for ignoring him earlier and causing him to feel like he had to just head back to the room since he felt so unwelcome. Harry shut the door behind him, approaching the bed, and smiling softly at his thoughtful expression. He must have been dreaming intently about something. And it was admittedly kind of cute how his feet kicked and nose twitched in his sleep. Harry shook his head, mentally kicking himself for noticing this. He should have seen Louis fast asleep in the bed as the perfect opportunity to strangle the life out of him or suffocate him with a pillow until he died, but instead he wanted nothing more than to cuddle up beside him. Why, was a question he pathetically had no answer for.

He ran a hand across his messy hair, and Louis inhaled, deeply. Harry froze, afraid he'd woken up, and his heart fluttered at the soft moan that left Louis's lips as a small smile crept upon them. Harry swallowed, nervously. 

"Mmm, I knew you'd be back..." Louis mumbled, eyes still closed, as he held Harry's hand. Harry felt his throat dry up. Oh my God.

But before he could say anything in response, Louis's hand slipped from Harry's as they both heard the bathroom door open. Louis sat up on his elbows, glancing to the door and then trailing his eyes with guilt up the arm of....Harry? 

Harry stood, wide-eyed at the waiter from earlier stepping out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. He scoffed, the breath in his lungs shakily escaping his mouth. Louis sat up, abruptly. 

"Harry, I--"

"Don't..."

The waiter awkwardly stared at Louis and then at Harry. "I'm sorry, is..."

Harry ripped the ring off his finger and threw it violently at Louis's face, possibly leaving a bruise with the speed and force of the impact. Louis winced at the hit, before jumping out of bed, seeing Harry rush out of the room.

The waiter stood, looking confused and wracked with guilt by the whole ordeal, and Louis picked up his trousers and flung them back at him.

"Fucking get dressed," he barked at him, before chasing after Harry, who was already speeding down the hall to the elevator. "Harry, I--" 

"I said don't!" Harry screamed, turning around suddenly, and Louis almost ran into his chest. "You are so fucking two-faced and sick, you know that?!"

Louis froze, staring at him.

"You bounce from being all affectionate and loving to being rude and judgmental towards me when you're the one fucking someone else on our honeymoon!"

"It's not a real honeymoon!" Louis shouted back. 

"Then why the fuck did you care if I was spending time with Phoebe?! You're the one who walked away!"

"You made me!"

"I haven't done anything wrong except let myself believe you're not the piece of shit I suspected from the start!" 

"Then go fuck Phoebe for all I care!" Louis screamed back, hiding his own pain at Harry's words, though the worst part was knowing how true it all was. "I didn't care that you've been gone for hours doing God knows what with her! How many fucking paintings could she possibly be droning on about for so long?"

"I left the Louvre ten minutes after you did. Phoebe just gave me her card in case I wanted to come to the evening exhibit, which I didn't even go to! I've been wandering the city like some sad fucking idiot, giving you time and space to cool off before I came back!" he cried, hot, angry tears streaming down his face. "But you've proved how you cope with things, you heartless fucking jerk."

Louis paused, shocked at Harry's answer, which made him feel like genuine shit. Yes, it was wrong to do, but the extent at which Harry was getting offended almost made it seem like he took it as a personal hit. Louis began to question if that was his motive, after all. Did he just have meaningless sex with the waiter, knowing it would upset Harry if he strategically walked in and saw? Or was he really just a Grade A piece of shit who would have fucked him regardless? Either way, he seemed like a heartless fucking jerk, in Harry's eloquent choice of words. But they fit Louis's character, certainly.

"Harry, I..." he began to explain, his voice softer but not having a clue of what to say. Harry shook his head, not wanting to hear it as he turned again for the elevator. "Where are you even going?" he asked, facing Harry's back as he entered the elevator.

Harry turned around to face him and pulled the card out of his shirt pocket, glaring at Louis.

"To fuck Phoebe," he answered, as the doors closed before him. Louis stood, frozen in place. It shouldn't have bothered him. Whether Harry was getting revenge or having sex with someone as technically single as he was. It shouldn't have bothered him.

But when the doors shut, his heart fell, as he unballed his fist, looking at Harry's abandoned ring.


	9. Chapter 9

"I'm sorry to bother you," Harry apologized, after entering Phoebe's apartment. She waved away Harry's unncecessary apology, as he stumbled inside. "It's fine, I know grabbing drinks after work was a bit last minute, but I didn't where else to go," he said, holding onto a coat hook for support.

"You seemed quite upset, and I was just wrapping up the last tour of the evening when you called. I can't let you go back to your hotel like this," she said, unaware that Harry could very well direct a cab driver back to where he and Louis were staying. 

"It's fine, I'm not in any hurry to go back," he said, slurring a bit. She guided him over towards the couch after taking her coat off.

"Have a seat, Harry. I'll bring you some tea or something," she said, patting his back. He nodded. What the hell was he doing here? 

 

"Phoebe," Harry spoke up, turning to face her from the couch.

"Hm?"

"I'm fine, I don't need anything. I think I've bothered you enough," he said, shifting to get up, realizing this had been a bad idea. She set the tea kettle, returning over to where he was sitting.

"It's not a bother at all," she insisted, her eyes glimmering. He swallowed, nervously. This wasn't just courtesy behavior. She might be kind of into him. And no doubt, she was an attractive woman. She emphasized that, flipping her black hair over her shoulder every so often and blinking softly at Harry with those blue eyes. 

"You sure?" he asked. She nodded, leaning in.

"You just need to take your mind off whatever's bothering you," she whispered, brushing aside a curl the wind had flustered. His breath hitched, feeling her breasts against his chest.

"Phoebe.."

"Shh, it's okay, Harry," she said, softly, before closing the space between them. He furrowed his eyebrows, but somehow let himself ease into the kiss. He felt a soft hand run across his jaw and cheekbone, as she cupped his face. He gasped, parting his lips, and allowing her to deepen the kiss. He moaned, involuntarily, and her other hand guided his to the top of her dress's shoulder strap. Her bra was then exposed, and she pressed her body closer. 

"Mm, Phoebe," he said, weakly. He didn't want to take advantage of her or use her as a rebound, but considering Harry was the one obviously more intoxicated and she was more than willing even when she was sober to have her way with him, it seemed more like she was the one taking advantage of him.

"Relax, baby," she said, and he let himself be pushed further into his seat, as she moved to straddle him. "You're so tense," she said, massaging his neck, and he closed his eyes, her fingers moving like magic against his skin, but not soothing the nerves he was feeling because of this. She kissed his neck softly, and he lulled his head to the side, giving her more access. She guided his hands to her waist, and he turned to look at her. He gasped, mistaking her blue eyes for Louis's out of nowhere. "What?" she asked, startled as his body jerked in surprise, alerting Harry's drunken mind what was going on. Why did he imagine that to be Louis straddling him and kissing him? He shook his head, reminding himself that he wanted his first time to be special. He wasn't going to just give his virginity to anyone. Not to Louis because he was an asshole, and not to Phoebe because she was just an acquaintance, a very desperate one. But why the hell did he still subconsciously want her to be Louis when he had just had his own shameless affair with that damn waiter?

"N-nothing," he stammered, his breathing uneven. "I'm sorry...I have to go, my husband must be worried," he said, as if it was the most natural explanation to give in the world. Phoebe scrambled off his lap, immediately, pulling her dress over her bra.

"What?!" she screeched, and Harry blinked, realizing what he had just revealed. "You're married?! And gay?!" Harry didn't say anything. He didn't have the ring as proof and he had completely ignored Louis's existence for most of the day earlier at the museum, so of course this was some pretty shocking news for Phoebe.

"I-yes," he admitted, and she just pointed to the door, her face flushed with shame and embarrassment.

"I think you should leave," she said, not even looking at him, despite how curious she had been only seconds ago to run her hands down his defined abdomen. He buttoned up his shirt and nodded, the feeling being mutual. He turned to apologize again, but her head was lowered and she was blushing, terribly. He didn't really blame her. If he was straight and heartless, tonight would've definitely been a one night stand, but even he couldn't let himself fall to Louis's level and stoop to that kind of low, though Louis shouldn't have crossed his mind at all. 

The door shut behind him, and Harry left Phoebe's apartment complex, walking along the sidewalk to catch a cab. 

*

Louis sat on his half-empty bed, playing with Harry's ring. He had lost track of time, being so caught up in his thoughts of self-hatred and remorse. The waiter had nonetheless received the unspoken message that they had been a mistake and needed to just avoid each other and the cringing memory completely.

*

Harry was getting sick of the cars blaring past him, ignoring the fact that his hand was stuck out for a cab and he had whistled loud enough for plenty of them to pull over and pick him up. At this point, just from walking, he could see the faint lights of the Eiffel tower in the distance, meaning the hotel was nearby too. So what was the point of even continuing to ask for some French jackass to actually help him out? 

"Hey, pretty boy," a deep voice with an accent he didn't recognize said from behind him, breaking him out of his annoyed thought. Harry froze for a bit, but decided to keep walking and ignore it. 

*

Louis was surprised at the tear that escaped his eye and hit the diamond of Harry's ring. He blinked, more tears falling from his soaked lashes, as he lifted his head, the tears having accumullated as he stared down for who knew how long.

*

"Where you think you're going?" asked the voice after, worrying Harry because that meant the man must have been following him for awhile, and before he knew what was happening, Harry was pulled into an alley past a barbed wire fence that led to the back of a restaurant that was closing for the night and some other building he didn't recognize.

*

Louis just let himself cry, curling up into a ball on the bed, clutching the duvet, desperate to smell the lingering scent of Harry. This was so sick. Why did he care so much and let himself have moments where he was so inconsiderate of Harry's feelings at the same time?

*

 

"Please, stop, I'll give you everything I have in my wallet," Harry pleaded to the stranger behind him, who was now twisting his arm and pressing his body into Harry's backside, causing terrified tears to prick at his eyes. 

*

Louis tossed the duvet off himself, deciding if Harry was going to carelessly fuck Phoebe just to get back at him and be a whole hypocrite about wanting to save himself for someone special and he thought fucking Phoebe was special, well then, Louis was going to do what he did to handle overwhelming anxiety or frustration.

*

Harry begged the man, as he heard belt buckles being loosened. "Please..please..stop, I'll give you whatever you want," he bargained.

"I think you know what I want," said the man, devilishly. Harry felt like he was going to pass out, he was so horrified.

*

Louis grabbed his coat and pocketed his hotel key after getting ready to try out the city's bar and see how smashed he could get, how much alcohol it took to drown himself of these twisted feelings for that curly-haired bastard, how much alcohol it took to drown himself of his own hatred for who he was, what he did to people he cared about. He grimaced at the phrase. People he cared about. Ha. He pushed the front entrance door open, sighing as he realized Harry wasn't holding his hand this time. He almost didn't want to experience the loneliness of being a cab, so he decided to walk to the nearest bar, let the crisp night air, clear his mind before the booze did.

*

"SOMEBODY, HELP!" Harry sobbed, before having his hair yanked back and arm twisted harder, leaving him to quieter whimpers in the dark alley. He groaned in pain, feeling his skin burn and a bruise starting to form on his forearm from the harsh grip of whoever was assaulting him.

Why was this happening? What the hell did he fucking do to deserve this? Why did every element of life outside of his control insist on making his life complete and utter hell?

"HARRY?!" 

Harry turned his tear-stained face, which was pressed up against the brick building, to see the figure in the distance, now rushing towards them. It couldn't be.

"L-Lou...?"


	10. Chapter 10

"What's going on here?" Louis asked, approaching the burly man who had Harry pressed to the wall. He immediately yanked the back of his shirt, ripping him off of his husband. That felt weird. 

"Mind your business," spat the assaulter, and Harry turned around, wiping the blood off his face, after his cheek scraped across the rough brick wall. 

"This is my business, you're fucking with my husband," Louis defended, and the man raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah?" he scoffed, darkly. "And that's going to stop me?" He proceeded with punching Louis in the stomach, eliciting a harsh groan from the shorter lad.

"Louis!" Harry shouted, running to help, but was promptly elbowed by the bigger man. He hit the ground, landing on his back. Louis coughed, and a fire ignited in him, seeing Harry now rolling on the dirty ground of the dim alley, groaning in pain. He forced himself to stand up straight, cranking his fist back before connecting it with man's face, sending him stumbling back into some trash cans. 

Louis moves to help Harry up, but the green-eyed lad shakes his head, warningly. Louis looks at him confused. "What?"

"Louis, fucking move!" Harry shouted, trying to shove him away, but he was tackled to the ground, the man repeatedly punching Louis's face as he pinned him down. "Stop!" Harry sobbed, crawling over to them and trying to pry the larger man off his husband. He begged him to get off.

Louis managed to get a few hits in himself, but every time he took a fist to the face, Harry felt like it was another pin being shoved into his chest. "Harry, go back to the hotel!" Louis demanded, not wanting him to get involved or hurt, and just to escape before this got worse. Harry scoffed. Was he serious? He wasn't going to leave him here to get beaten to death.

"No!"

"Harry, fucking go!" he repeated, and Harry gasped in shock as the man took this as an opportunity to hit Louis particularly hard, causing Louis's nose to profusely start bleeding. He looked like he was going to pass out because he was so dizzy from the repeated blows. 

"LOUIS!!!" Harry screamed, then pulling the attacker off of him, with some sudden surge of strength nobody expected from him. He threw the man off to the side, pulling his fist back and smashing it into his face, crying as he did. "Don't fucking touch my husband!" 

Louis turned his head, as he lay on the gravel, and spit some blood out, not sure if he heard Harry correctly. He sat up, slowly, wincing in pain, as he saw with wide eyes Harry beating the shit out of the guy. Oh my God. He didn't think he had it in him, but clearly something fueled it.

And as hot as it was, Louis didn't want Harry to get arrested or kill the guy. He called out, weakly, blood seeping through the cut on his lip. "Harry..Harry, stop."

Harry only turned around, after noticing the man was almost unconscious and definitely not about to fight back anymore. He looked at his bleeding fist, appalled by his own behaviour. Where the hell did that come from? 

 

He looked back at Louis, who was wiping his mouth of blood. He blinked at him, confused and like he had just been temporarily possessed, having a difficult time processing what had just happened. He stood up, slowly, walking back over to where Louis was sitting, still unable to stand up, stabley. He helped him up, placing his arm around his shoulder and neck and guiding him back the short distance to the hotel.

 

The receptionist sat up in her chair, wide-eyed, having just seen Louis leave for the bar a little while ago, and he wasn't covered in bruises, dirt, and scars. Harry looked to her, and just shook his head, when she lifted her telephone, about to call an ambulance or something. He escorted him into the elevator, not saying a word during the ride up. Louis looked at him, weakly. What could they possibly say to each other? This was the most dramatic, chaotic, and fucked up honeymoon anyone could possibly have. He figured the only that made sense to be spoken in this situation was to apologize.

"I'm sorry," he said, pressing his body closer to Harry, not wanting his arm to stop supporting his aching body. Harry sighed, refraining from wrapping his other arm around Louis or rubbing his back, or showing any sign of comfort. Louis bit his lip, about to start crying because he knew Harry was stifling affection. When Harry yelled at the man to stop hitting his husband, Louis knew he was just saying it out of impulse and because Harry is just too good of a person to even let a piece of shit like Louis get beaten up by a lowlife rapist even if he came to Harry's aid. "I'm sorry," Louis repeated in a pathetic whisper, wanting Harry to forgive him, take care of him, some sign of him not hating him. It was so wrong, because he knew he didn't deserve it. But seeing Harry in that helpless state, he realized something he was so terrified of admitting to even himself, something he didn't have to be drunk in a bar to realize like he was planning on doing tonight when he heard the crying from the alley. "Harry..." 

Harry guided him out of the elevator when they stopped at their floor. He unlocked their door, helping Louis to the bed and settling him in, gently, hating how his face grimaced in pain at the slightest touch. He grabbed one of the hot towels provided by the hotel and pressed it against the newly forming bruises on Louis's face. Louis held back a yelp of pain, not wanting Harry to remove his touch. 

"I'm going to call for some Advil and ice packs, the swelling will go down soon enough," he said, stepping away from Louis. Louis reached for his hand, and both of them looked down at his swollen hand and red knuckles.

"It's my fault you even ended up there," Louis explained, and Harry shook his head, not wanting to hear it. "I don't even care if you had sex with that art museum lady because I shouldn't care, you are technically single and I'm not in control of your actions...but you were just saying those things when you caught me in bed with that guy, and I just yelled at you out of spite, and I'm sorry if I offended you." 

Harry slipped his hand out of Louis's, needing to get an ice pack for himself as well. Louis closed his eyes, holding back tears, but they spilled down the side of his face anyways. It was like one massive fuck up after another. Harry didn't deserve any of this.

 

Harry got off the phone to the room service attendant after requesting the aspirin, ice pack, and more toilettes. He laid down in bed after the woman advised him they'd be up in a bit. He stared up at the ceiling, keeping a distance from Louis, not even noticing that he was soaking the pillow with his silent tears as he lay next to him, so desperate just to be wrapped up in his arms and forget anything from the past couple days happened.

"I didn't have sex with her," Harry suddenly spoke, breaking the silence. Louis froze, and turned to look at him.

"Wh-what?"

"I didn't have sex with Phoebe."

Louis swallowed thickly, wiping his eyes as he stared at Harry, whose eyes remained locked with the ceiling paint.

 

Louis knew he was asking a risky question but did anyways. "Why not?" he asked, quietly.

Harry turned to him, with a straight face and furrowed eyebrows as he spoke with a genuine seriousness that reminded Louis of what a better, more moral, and considerate person Harry was.

"Because I'm not like you." 

Louis closed his eyes, and nodded in agreement, trying to choke back the knot in his throat. Harry wasn't like Louis. He wouldn't have meaningless sex with someone to get back at someone else or because he was upset. He still respected the sanctity of marriage, even if it wasn't an orthodox one or one based on true love initially. He was just too good for that, too good for Louis. 

"Why are you crying?" he then asked, breaking Louis out of another one of his self-despising episodes.

"It hurts," he whimpered, turning away. 

"The room service lady's coming up soon," he said, getting up to adjust his pillow, not realizing that wasn't the pain Louis was referring to. Harry looked down at Louis, adding, "Try not to fuck her, too."

Louis, though offended, didn't say anything. 

Harry paused, questioning if that was maybe a little too harsh.

"Did he hurt you?" Louis asked, suddenly. Harry looked at him again, smoothing out Louis's pillow. He shook his head.

"I'm okay," he answered, and then moved his hand. It was stuck underneath Louis. "Um..my..my hand is stuck," he said, awkwardly. Louis looked up at him, his eyes softening, as he didn't move to free Harry's hand, keeping him hunched down. He forced himself to sit up a bit, even though Harry advised him not to. "Lou-"

"Harry, please," he said, sitting up. "Please believe me."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, but the conversation stopped there when he felt the weak grip on his collar, pulling him even lower to Louis's eye level. His breath hitched in his throat. "Louis..." he whispered, not taking his eyes off his. Louis began leaning, and Harry swallowed, nervously. Oh God, oh God, oh God. No, no, no, no, no. I can't let this keep happening. But why wasn't he not leaning away then?

"Harry, I...I lo--"

The door knocked and suddenly was pushed open, and a woman walked in, pushing a silver cart. "Room service!" she greeted, and Harry pulled away, scratching the back of his neck, and stepping away from the bed. Louis let his head fall back on the bed, not sure what he was annoyed with. Himself, the room service lady's timing, or the moment she had just interrupted.

Harry blushed, nodding to the lady to thank her, before she shut the door behind her. He didn't look at Louis, and Louis didn't look at him. 

He coughed, uncomfortably. "What-what were you saying?" 

Louis pursed his lips. Yeah. What the hell was he saying? He looked at Harry from his bed, opening his mouth to speak again.

"I..."


	11. Chapter 11

Harry looked at him, waiting for him to finish.

"I...I lo-I lost my key card, I think," he said, and Harry's face failed at not showing his painfully obvious disappointment. "In the alley, I think I lost it." Harry sighed, digging into his pocket, and pulling out his hotel key card, slamming it onto the nightstand beside Louis.

"You can have mine," he said, coldly. "I don't plan on leaving the hotel until we have to catch the flight back to England."

Louis sighed, immediately regretting his stupid dip-out from what he was originally going to say. He didn't want Harry to lock himself away, but that's what he seemed to be driving him to do, so it was as much Louis's fault, too. 

Louis spent the next couple days just silently being taken care of by Harry, who didn't leave the hotel either. They watched F.R.I.E.N.D.'s reruns on the television in the hotel room, ate their meals together, but their conversations were dry and meaningless, and Louis promised to himself once he stopped feeling like shit (physically, that is), he wanted to end the honeymoon off right. 

The Saturday morning before their flight, Louis stepped out of the bathroom, finally able to not have Harry at his side every groan and wince. It was sweet of him, but part of Louis craved the pain because he felt he deserved it. Having Harry help unnecessarily just didn't seem right. He got dressed, not bothering Harry who was passed out on the bed, having stayed up all night with Louis who was afraid to go to sleep because of his migraine, fearing some blood clot in his sleep. Louis really admired how knowledgable Harry was about all this physiological stuff; he was just chalk full of knowledge, like an encyclopedia. Yet another thing to add to the list of things that made Harry perfect. And it only reminded Louis that he brought nothing to the table aside from the money meant to help out Anne and Harry's financial predicament.

Harry stirred in his sleep, and Louis watched his arm extend to the other side of the bed, like he was expecting Louis to be there. His eyebrows furrowed as he let out a soft exhale, and he almost looked...disappointed? Louis watched him for a little bit longer, before Harry's eyes fluttered open, and Louis blushed, feeling weird for having stared at him the whole time, but it wasn't like he even noticed. The worst part was when Harry sat up, looked at the empty spot, frowned-definitely frowned a bit-and then turned, startled by Louis standing at the foot of the bed, dressed to go out. He blushed, and Louis felt like he was going to die, this feeling was going to overwhelm his body and throw him into a numb coma.

"Morning," he greeted, and Harry tightened his mouth into a straight line. Well, what the hell is that? A frown, a smile?

"Good morning," Harry replied, his voice so husky and gravely in the morning, Louis leaned against the end of the bed, just trying to keep his legs from giving out at how sexy he sounded. He paused at the adjective. Sexy? Oh, my God.

 

"Get ready," Louis told him, and Harry sat up, straighter, rubbing his eyes as he was still waking up. 

"What for?"

"Because we didn't come to Paris to let some creep ruin our honeymoon," he answered. "And I think we've both pissed each other off enough to want to spend the last night of this fucking rollercoaster of a holiday in a nice way."

Harry chuckled. 

"Why are you laughing?" Louis asked, as Harry got out of bed.

"You have such a fucking way with words," Harry returned, sarcastically, at his use of profanity. Louis's face softened, as Harry headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready. He walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder, and Harry gasped, jerking away, traumatic flashbacks of the other night flooding back. 

"Whoa, hey, sorry!" he apologized, raising his hands up, assuring him he wasn't going to hurt him. Harry blinked, remembering where he was. "Harry.." Louis said, concerned, stepping forward, and Harry subconsciously backed into the wall. 

"Sorry.." he stammered, reaching for the bathroom door handle, and stepping inside. Louis blinked at what had just happened, knowing Harry was still shaken by what had happened earlier. He frowned, walking over to the door, leaning against it.

"Harry, are you okay?" he asked, softly.

Harry was washing his face, letting the water running muffle out Louis's voice and calm him down.

"Harry?" 

It had only happened a few nights ago. It was still a very vivid image. The horror of actually knowing you were about to lose your virginity in the most horrible way possible, watching someone come to your aid after you just planned on hurting them by using someone else for sex and just trying to process all the things wrong with this situation...oh God, and watching Louis get hit..it made him realize he never wanted to see him get hurt, or to hurt him himself. Not emotionally, not physically. When he hit the ground, Harry had felt his heart plummet into his stomach. They hadn't talked about it at all, it was like forbidden territory after Louis had told him he lost his key card, or whatever he was planning on saying.

He looked up into the mirror, and noticed he'd been crying. Louis wouldn't be able to tell the difference from him washing his face and crying, but the bloodshot eyes...ugh. He then noticed Louis was still by the door, asking if he was okay.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine!" he called out, the water still running. 

Louis sighed, knowing he was lying. "Harry, please open the door. I think I know what's bothering you."

"Nothing is, I promise!" 

"Harry..."

The door swung open, and Louis stepped back, surprised, but was quickly pulled forward, as Harry threw his arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably. He stumbled a bit, trying to balance his feet by Harry's unexpected action. He wasn't saying anything, just crying terribly into the fabric of Louis's shirt. Louis decided against telling Harry he was soaking his shirt because he seemed so distraught right now, and it came out of nowhere, and he didn't want to say anything if Harry was no state to answer, or speak coherently.

"Harry, what's wrong?" he asked, not wanting to loosen the hold they had on each other in the slightest.

"I was so scared!" he sobbed, clutching onto Louis tighter, like he was his life jacket. "I-I...Louis, I.." He was shaking so bad, it was like the incident had just occurred two minutes ago. Louis rubbed his back, shushing him.

"It's okay..it's okay, Harry.." he whispered, nuzzling against his hair. "I'm here, you're okay, you're safe now.."

Harry sniffled, his body calming down in Louis's consolation. He took deeper, slower breaths, trying to avoid a full-on anxiety attack. 

"...thank you..." he said, after a moment. "..for saving me.."

Louis shut his eyes, finally a single tear escaping his stern eyes. "Harry," he said, pulling away, and wiping away the curly haired lad's tears with his thumbs. "Harry, stop crying."

Harry sniffled again, choking as he suppressed himself. "I-I'm trying."

"Now, go get ready, okay? I want to make up for everything tonight. It's been a crazy week.."

Harry nodded in agreement. "Okay," he said, quietly, returning to the bathroom. Louis waited for the door to shut again, before losing it. He slid against the wall, sinking to the carpet, and running a hand through his hair. 

To say that was a curveball would be an understatement. Louis shook his head, more anxious for tonight more than ever. He heard the shower turn on, and suppressed the thought of imagining himself just joining Harry. Just joining him right now in the shower. He clutched his sandy brown hair tighter. One more night. He had to get through one more night, make this one good enough for Harry to cancel out the shit from earlier, and that was it.

But hearing Harry hum to himself in the shower, contemplating tonight...Louis knew it was not going to be anywhere near that easy, simple, or disguisable.


	12. Chapter 12

"Is this cliche?" Louis asked, self-critically, as he looked at Harry's blindfolded face, a few curls sticking out between the fabric. He adjusted it, after noticing it was bothering his forehead, which he was crinkling. 

"No..." Harry answered. "It's just got more of a kidnapping feel than anything roman--" He stopped himself, not wanting to assume it was anything intimate that Louis had planned. "Where are we going?" he asked, blindly searching for Louis and his accidently brushing down his entire torso, which was clothed in a soft fabric. "Sorry..."

"It's fine," Louis chuckled, guiding Harry's hands around his waist for leverage, evening out his dress shirt, and helping Harry step out when they heard the familiar ding and sound of an organ repertoire. 

"We're not..."

"Yeah, we are," Louis said, stepping behind Harry, and loosening the knot of the blindfold before removing the silky fabric. Harry's eyes widened at the fairly lights adorning the story of the Eiffel Tower, overlooking the city, where the lights in shops looked like fireflies in the distance. His eyes glanced over the candle-lit table, and the fact that the only people on this floor were him and Louis, aside from the waiter and organ player, playing the thematic French music of romance. 

"Louis..." His voice trailed off, feeling Louis's hand pressed to his back, guiding him to the table. Louis had told him to dress nice, without informing him of where they were going, but when he finally saw Louis himself in his formal attire, he could've sworn he almost looked as handsome as he had at their wedding. Almost. It still felt like an odd memory, as well. He looked down at the extravagant buffet of options to choose from, all foods he couldn't even guess the price of. Broiled stuffed oysters, Terrine de Foie Gras, glazed carrots, filet mignon...

"I didn't know what you liked, or what you're allergic to," Louis explained, watching Harry eye the dishes. "I'm sorry if..." Harry shook his head and smiled at him from the opposite end of the table.

"It's lovely," he assured him, and Louis smiled, proudly. But that didn't last long when he noticed Harry's face switch into a contemplative expression.

"What?" Louis asked him. Harry bit his lip, looking like he was thinking how to word himself. He looked over his shoulder, at the empty balcony behind him, and then at the organ player and waiter who had just left for a moment. Louis frowned, realizing who Harry was looking for. "I...I made sure we got a different waiter," he said, awkwardly, and Harry looked at Louis for a brief moment before his eyes fell back to his plate. Louis frowned, thinking he shouldn't have mentioned it. 

"Why now?" Harry asked, and Louis watched as he stabbed at his filet. "I mean, how much longer until you're mean to me again?"

Louis cocked his head, confused. "Harry, you're the one trying to fuck it up before I've even--"

"And it's happening."

"Wha-you're...I just wanted to have a nice dinner because it's our last day here before we go back home, and it's been a ridiculous week! I figured we could end on a good note, but you insist on killing a good thing before it even starts!"

"Well, one of us always does. Has that not been the routine of this whole honeymoon?" Harry shrugged, not lifting his eyes from his plate. 

"Is that how you want the routine to be for the whole marriage? You don't want to get better; one of us just has to absolutely piss the other one off because neither of us deserve to be happy or calm for a tenth of a second?!" Louis snapped, harshly. Harry frowned deeply. There was a sick logic to everything he was saying. 

"It's not a real marriage," was all Harry said in response, and Louis scooted his chair out.

"Unbelievable."

Harry sighed, not knowing why he was jeopardizing everything. He finally looked at Louis, his eyes deep with fear of Louis being mad at him but also concern for himself and letting anything happen that might send him even further into the black hole that was their relationship. He knew he wasn't going to be able to get out if he ventured too far. It scared him.

"Louis.."

"What do you want, Harry?" Louis whispered, frustratingly, slamming his hands on the table, and leaning forward, to glare at his husband. "You're going to hate me, you're going to hate everything regardless, what the hell do I do?" Harry took a deep breath as he was talking and then cupped Louis's face with both his hands, kissing him passionately. He pulled away, and both lads looked at each other in the same confusion they did every time this happened. 

"I don't know what the fuck I want," Harry confessed. "This dinner, this week...I don't know what I'm feeling..." he said, when he leaned back into his seat, and scratched his head. Louis blinked, craving another kiss, but listening to what Harry had to say.

"We can figure it out later. We don't need to complicate things any further..." he spoke, softer. The waiter arrived again with two bottles of wine and glasses, and Louis eyed the cabernet before looking again at Harry. "Let's just enjoy dinner, enjoy the last night. That's all I want."

Harry nodded, in agreement for the meantime. They started eating, and Harry pondered for a moment, examining the oyster and then chuckling. Louis was probably thinking Harry had gone mad. The mood changes were beginning to make Harry feel sick of himself as well.

"What, what now?" Louis asked, critically, setting down his fork. 

"Nothing, it's just...I don't know if you meant to order these, but..." he laughed, stopping himself. It was an expensive dinner, and surely, Louis only meant it to flatter Harry and give him the best for the evening.

"No, what is it?" Louis insisted, wanting to know Harry's analysis of his food choices.

"Did you know oysters are like, a natural aphrodisiac?" he said, still giggling like an idiot. Louis narrowed his eyes at Harry. This was it. This kid was a genuine fucking loon. He's lost his mind.

 

"No, I didn't," Louis answered, establishing Harry was the lightest of lightweights when it came to wine. 

"Mhm, usually it's for women because they resemble female sex organs, but--" he began explaining, but stopped when Louis grimaced. "But the amino acids increase levels of testosterone in men, too, and boost production of sex hormones." Louis raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Basically, it makes you horny." 

"I'm sorry you got that implication," Louis replied, taking a bite of his foie gras. Harry frowned. 

"So you don't want to have sex with me," he mumbled to himself, but not indiscreetly enough for Louis not to hear it. 

"Why does it matter? You want someone special, someone right for you," he muttered back. Harry huffed, pouring himself another glass of wine. His mind was already out of sorts, what was another drink? Louis grabbed the neck of the bottle, stopping him. "You've had enough for tonight."

"Who are you to tell me?"

"Your husband."

"You're not really my husband," he said, tugging on the bottle. "You don't even fucking love me."

"You don't love me either!"

"Let go of the bottle!" he whined, and the waiter approached the table again.

"Is everything alright?"

"NO!" Harry shouted, letting go of the wine bottle, and sending Louis back as he fell with force out of his chair. The waiter helped him up, and Louis requested, they just wrap up the rest of the food and put it in a take away box for him. At least they had managed majority of the dinner and enjoyed the scenery for a bit. But Harry didn't need to have that sudden temper tantrum. He tried to remain as calm as he could, while Harry trudged over to the organ player. "Why are you still playing?" he asked him, slurring. Louis walked over, pulling him by the arm.

"Let's go," he told him, keeping his voice cool. Harry glared at Louis.

"Why do you put up with me?" he asked him, and Louis scrunched his face up in confusion. He answered by holding up Harry's left hand. Harry's glare softened.

"Let's go," Louis repeated, as the waiter handed him the leftovers in a styrofoam container. Louis thanked him, paid, tipped him, apologized on behalf of his confusing, moody, fucking jackass of a husband but in more eloquent words. Harry was too drunk and entranced by the twinkly lights and stars as he wandered the empty balcony to notice, hear, or care. Louis rushed over, as Harry leaned over the railing. 

"Paris is soooo pretty!" he shouted. "You're all beautiful!" he yelled at the people down below. Louis yanked him from the banister, not wanting him to fall and die. "Hmmm," he hummed, as he was whirled to face Louis. He had this stupid, drunken grin on his face, and Louis just shook his head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that yes, even though you essentially split personality disorder when it comes to our marriage, you are cute as hell when intoxicated. 

"You done?" he asked, in reference to his drunken wandering on top of the Eiffel Tower. Harry nodded, lazily, and Louis helped him into the elevator, taking his hand again, mostly to steady him. They didn't kiss. 

They arrived back at the hotel, got a head start on packing for tomorrow afternoon. They didn't kiss.

Louis zipped up his carry-on and lifted it off the bed, not wanting it to occupy Harry's space, and as he turned around, Harry was already undressed, ready to crash. "Sorry, let me just set this by the wall," he said, speaking more to Harry's collarbone than to his face. This fucking height distance. 

Harry took the handle from Louis, setting the suitcase aside for him. 

"Um, thanks.." Louis said.

"Thank you for dinner. I..I know I probably embarrassed you..and I don't really *hiccup* drink, but...it's Paris," he reasoned, with a slight laugh and then another hiccup. Louis let out an exhausted chuckle as well, forgiving him.

"As long as you at least enjoyed tonight, Harry. I just...I needed this to be an improvement from before."

"It was. I did, I enjoyed it. Really. It..."

"What?"

"It felt like...a honeymoon, for a little while." He smiled, and Louis lowered his eyes at the ring on Harry's hand, taking note of his abdomen on the way down.

"I'm going to...I'm going to, uh, change then. We've got a busy day tomorrow." He moved towards his other suitcase for his PJ's, but felt a hand grip his wrist, pull him back. The touch immediately pulsed through Louis's body. He looked up at Harry. He's drunk, he ate oysters. This isn't him. It's the wine and aphrodisiac, nope nope nope.

 

Harry's hand lifted to pull the loosened tie from around Louis's collar, the silk slipping along the fabric. Louis's breath hitched, as he noticed the tie fall to the floor. Harry took a step forward, helping him with his buttons. Why was he nervous when Harry was the one making the bold moves as a virgin on the guy he descibed as a total man-whore only days ago? This was so wrong, but he couldn't stop it. But it was Harry's first time, and he couldn't take that from him. He couldn't do that to him.

"Harry.." he unwantingly protested. "Harry, you're drunk." Harry continued, staying focused on the third button being undone by his fingers onto the fourth. He didn't want to lose the feeling or ruin the moment. 

"I'm sober enough," he argued, huskily, and Louis could kind of believe him since he was standing stabily, finally, and his eyes didn't look nearly as boozed, but still.

"Harry," Louis whispered, holding his hands at the fourth button against his skin. 

Harry took a deep breath, pressing his forehead against Louis's. "I won't, if you don't want me to."

"Harry, this is a big moment for you. You're not thinking right...I mean, this is me, of all people. It wouldn't be right."

"But we're married..." he whimpered, brushing his nose against Louis's.

"But we keep saying it's not real, that we don't love each other..."

Harry spoke against the corner of Louis's mouth. "I lied." 

Louis's heart fluttered at the touch of those lips and sound of those words. "H-H..."


	13. Chapter 13

"Tell me you don't feel anything.." Harry dared him. "I know it's fucked up, I don't understand it either, but tell me, and we can go to bed, go home tomorrow, and follow through with the original plan."

Okay, Harry was definitely in the right state of mind to be speaking so clearly. But it still seemed insane for him to actually like let alone love someone like Louis...

 

Louis shivered, feeling Harry's delicate touch remove him of his shirt, and then himself of his, tugging at his quirky bowtie and flinging it aside. He kissed at Louis's neck, and felt Louis's breath come out in a shallow gasp. Harry took a step forward, and Louis backed into the bed, falling onto his back with a soft grunt, as Harry towered over him, arms on either side of him as he leaned down to softly press his lips to Louis's. He brushed his nose along the side of his, and Louis jerked away, abruptly. Harry blinked, confused.

"We can't!" Louis practically yelled, crawling out from underneath Harry to the other end of the bed. Harry furrowed his eyebrows together, his chest tightening with hurt. 

He swallowed thickly, slowly becoming aware of his own lack of sobriety. He wanted to be numb; he could feel himself getting upset over Louis again. "I thought..."

"You thought wrong."

Harry bit his lip and looked down, all the blood rushing to his face in a level of paralyzing mortification, he thought he was going to pass out. Of course Louis had had plenty of meaningless sex in his adolescence, and the one time Harry was being more vulnerable than he had ever been

in 

his

entire

life

 

Louis was rejecting him. He didn't want him. How fucking embarrassing. How fucking embarrassing not being worthy of someone as lothario-like as Louis. He hated himself. He hated Louis. He felt like a wine glass that had strategically placed itself appealingly in front of an alcoholic and the alcoholic suddenly developed a disdain for it. Because it wasn't good enough for him, when he had no standards that Harry even knew of, to begin with. 

If his self-esteem could have even plummeted further, it definitely did, as he slowly lifted himself up from the bed, unsure what to do.

"I..."

"We're not really married," Louis repeated. "You have to remember that. You can't make this seem like we're consummating our love."

Harry blinked back tears, trying to make sense of it all. "But...the dinner...and..." He looked up to meet Louis's eyes back on the bed. "You don't..."

Louis tightened his mouth into a straight line and shook his head. Harry blinked harshly, swallowing again. It hurt so fucking bad. Louis looked down, and sighed deeply. He hadn't want it to end on that note. They were just supposed to have a nice dinner, to take Harry's mind off the drama earlier in the week. And now they had more baggage to carry back home to England than they had brought over to Paris. 

"Say it," Harry suddenly demanded, his eyes focused on Louis's.

"What?"

"Say it."

"Say what?"

"Just...tell me you don't love me. That's what I need to know."

"Harry, you're drunk; it's not going to make a differ--"

"It makes all the fucking difference!" Harry shouted. "Say it!" he demanded, and Louis got up from the bed, gesturing Harry to shut up or they were going to get noise complaints. Louis held a finger to his lips as he approached him, practically begging him not to be the melodramatic bag of emotions he was being right now. 

"Harry, please, shut up, shut the fuck up, please."

"Say it, Lou. Say it, say it. Just tell me you don't."

Louis bit his lip, knitting his eyebrows as he glared up at Harry. His voice escaped in a crackly, "I can't."

Harry's pained expression jabbed Louis right in the chest, and it hurt more than the altercation in the alley a few nights ago.

"But you can't say you do, either," Harry figured, in a sad whisper, as he looked down, tears escaping. Louis looked down, sighing heavily. Harry hesitated to touch him. This was so agonizingly capricious. 

"I've never said it to anyone before," he admitted, quietly. Harry looked down at Louis, almost pitifully, and ran a hand down his bicep and forearm, all the way around his dainty little wrist, and then grasped his hand. 

"I won't make you, if you're not ready or if you will never be because you're the only one seeing this for what it is....you're doing my family a favour and having sex with me wasn't part of the deal, and I'm sorry for reading so much into it...it was stupid...I was..I was stupid, I'm sorry." He shook his head, shamefully. 

"Harry, no, don't talk like that," Louis told him, grabbing his hand with both of his, and then looking down at how they matched up to just one of his, their wedding rings twinkling a bit. 

"I realize I'm not the typical kind of guy you...bed," Harry said, slipping his hand out of Louis's.

"Harry, stop, I didn't say any of that," Louis begged, not wanting him to beat himself up over Louis's emotional handicap. "This is just really confusing."

"What's confusing about it? You either feel it or you don't."

"But I don't deserve to take this from you!" Louis yelled, frustrated. He broke down, sobbing as he stared at Harry's collarbone and his chest move as he breathe. Inside that wall of skin and bone and tissue was a heart that Louis didn't deserve to tamper with, and the fact that Harry was giving him permission to was not something he was going to let happen. "Y-you're supposed to be married to a better man and not call it having sex and b-be in love..and.."

"Who's saying I'm not?" Harry asked, wondering where this self-deprecating side of Louis came from. 

Louis shook his head, trying to think rationally but it was hard because he was still only inches away from a chest and abdomen that looked like Greek god's and he didn't understand why Harry would hide it underneath those stupid sweaters and baggy band tees he wore and then Louis began to worry when he started remembering the types of outfits Harry would wear at school. "You're just too..." perfect "drunk."

Harry wasn't that drunk. He was intoxicated off something just as poisonous and harmful in large doses, but it wasn't all alcohol. He blinked, tiredly. He debated trying to assure Louis otherwise. That he was sober and in love. But even to Harry, who knew it to be true, it still sounded hard to believe, and he didn't completely blame Louis for not wanting to have the burden of being Harry's first time and first love and first all of these milestone intimate things knowing only weeks ago they wanted to kill each other.

To be honest, Harry really didn't even know which Louis responded better or more naturally to--love or violence. He glanced over to the bedside clock. It was getting late. He walked over to "his" side of the bed, removing his trousers and socks, stripping down to his briefs, then pulling the duvet and blanket up and over his body. Louis stood where he was, knowing they hadn't made much progress, but he was tired as well and they had a long day ahead tomorrow. One that just got longer. He took a deep breath and exhaled, before walking over and crawling back into bed after taking his trousers and socks off as well. He was facing Harry's back, watching the muscles and shoulder blades move as he shifted into a more comfortable position and let out a sigh that sounded so unhappy Louis just couldn't keep feeling like a failure any longer. He scooted closer, placing a hand on Harry's bicep.

Harry rolled his eyes, when he spotted Louis's fingertips on his skin. 

"I'm sorry things didn't go as planned." 

Harry closed his eyes, burying the side of his face into the pillow. 

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry didn't say anything. His skin tingled when he felt lips in between his shoulder blades. 

"Please don't be mad at me," the sad voice behind him whispered. 

"I'm not mad...I..."

Louis waited for Harry to finish, and when he didn't, asked, "What?"

Harry chuckled pathetically. "I...I just feel like..." he paused to sniffle, and Louis realized he was crying against the pillow. He propped himself up on his elbow, scooting closer to listen to him. "I feel so stupid..because I like, threw myself at you...and you were so repulsed by the idea of--"

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, and turned Harry onto his back to look up at him. "Hey, no. Stop over-analyzing."

"But--"

"I was not repulsed by you in any way, Harry. You-you're gorgeous to the point where I can't even find the right adjectives to describe you. Any man or woman should feel honoured to be the person you choose to give your virginity to."

Harry's vision of Louis blurred again, and he whimpered, "So why aren't you? ...I chose you."

Louis looked down at him and brushed a scruffy curl from his forehead. "I don't want you to regret it...you deserve the most perfect honeymoon."

"It was, until you scrambled away like you hated me...one second you do, the other you don't, I can't fucking read you."

Louis's lip quivered. No one had ever taken the time to read him, much less want to. At that moment, with the emotionally withered pair of jade eyes looking up at him, Louis reckoned if Harry wanted to read him, it'd have to be like braille. 

It was inconsistent, just like their entire relationship was. But this was the only way to show Harry what he couldn't say. 

Harry waited for an answer, but his eyes flicked to the shifting limb from underneath the duvet. He followed Louis's arm under the covers and blinked in surprise when he saw a pair of TopMan boxer briefs be cast to the side.


	14. Chapter 14

Harry woke up in the lingering ecstacy of the night before, Louis's worn body laying beside him, his arm around his waist. His eyes fluttered open, as he looked over to his husband's left hand, smiling softly. He felt Louis's chest rising and falling as he breathed, against Harry's back.

Last night was something else. It had been a little uncomfortable at first, but Louis's "experience" came in handy when came to helping Harry reaching a high he never knew existed. He just knew he didn't want that to be the only time, and he was holding back telling Louis over and over again those three words because he didn't want it to be impulsively blurted put during climax. He didn't know if it'd be weird to tell Louis how much he appreciated it, though. Like, if he had to pick the first time with someone, it would be him. Harry lay there, thinking for awhile.

Their bodies had fit so well together; his hands ran down Louis's back a little too perfectly and firmly, and even though he'd never had sex with him before, Louis knew how to angle his thrusts, where all of Harry's sweet spots were, what drove him crazy, what would send him over the edge. Arching backs and aching erections and desperate moans...for once, Harry wasn't embarrassed or shy or have to be intoxicated to act on the lust he felt for Louis, because it was him...fucking him, he supposed. Was that making love? He sighed, looking over to his boxers laying on the floor, and that desire flaming in Louis's eyes as he slid them off and proceeded to take Harry somewhere he'd never been before. He blushed, remembering how loud he had been, repeatedly panting Louis's name, and digging his nails into his back, only to apologize afterwards because he didn't mean to leave marks on his skin, despite the love bites that now littered Harry's neck, collarbone. He blinked when he felt the bed rustling behind him.

Louis slowly opened his tired eyes, quickly sliding his arm off Harry, his hands brushing the skin he had been so intimate with only a few hours ago. He swallowed, nervously, sitting up in bed, and wiping his face, exhaustedly. He had never put in so much work, paced himself with how quickly or deeply he'd push himself into someone he was fucking or how rough to be. He let Harry set the pace, asked him if he was okay whenever they sped up or changed position, and was oddly considerate of Harry's arousal and pleasure, rather than himself, which was different. He actually wanted to make it special for Harry, and was willing to restrain himself until Harry climaxed before he'd bottom out. He held him close and kissed him frequently, as opposed to erratic hip slamming and bruising the boy. He'd never been so gentle and slow before, and he was happy to find Harry had dozed off quickly after Louis pulled out, so they wouldn't have to talk or exchange any..."emotional" words. Louis knew he'd have to face it in the morning, though, but it hadn't mattered that much last night. It was the last night in Paris on their honeymoon, and Harry was putting himself out there, giving himself completely to Louis, and Louis didn't want to hurt him more by rejection than he would even if they did have emotionless, rough sex.

But that's just it. Louis didn't reject him. He trailed Harry's body down with soft kisses, ran his thumb along Harry's hips when he gave him head just to calm him down a bit, because he didn't want Harry to embarrass himself by coming too soon, something they came close to several times because Louis was prone to overstimulating his partners before actually getting on with it. But it was different. He was rocking into him, carefully, and actually making eye contact with Harry...it was nice. Harry felt warm and right and just really, really...good. And he didn't know if he wanted to call it making love just yet, because to associate that with an action that really used to just be a shameless recreational activity for Louis was going to mean he had changed. Had he changed? Or was Harry just willing to have sex with a "manwhore" because leaving your honeymoon a virgin was even more embarrassing than having been a virgin this entire time? He pulled himself from his thoughts when Harry turned his body to face him. Louis's face flushed, and he suddenly felt his heart beating frantically.

He had managed to control himself last night, not revealing to Harry how much he was panicking about making this good-incredible-for him and memorable and perfect and fuck, he was just staring at him with those green eyes and something had changed in them. Was it because of the sex or something else? Oh, my God. Stop fucking looking at me like that. 

 

Then he smiled.

And Louis's heart just lost it.

"Hi..." he greeted, his voice raspy and sore. Louis tried to level out his own breathing, before speaking, focusing on keeping calm. 

"Hi," he replied, and watched Harry's hand reach over and grab his, giving it a soft squeeze. Louis swallowed, thickly. "We should get..uh, ready then. Our flight leaves in a few hours," he reminded him. Harry nodded, sitting up a bit, and Louis noticed his face wince slightly. "What's wrong?" 

Harry looked at him and blushed, and Louis blinked, chuckling softly. His bum was sore. Louis nodded, not making Harry say it, and pulled the covers off of them, as they got out of bed. He turned to see Harry standing and stretching his arms out, his toned abs looking even more defined as he did, yawning, and attempting to fix his naturally "I just had sex" hair. He let his arms drop, and looked at Louis, who quickly whipped his head back around, after being caught staring.

"I'm going to take a shower," Harry told him, walking over to the bathroom. 

"Okay."

There was a brief silence, before Harry awkwardly coughed. "I don't know if we're going to have time to pack and shower and get breakfast before we have to get to security and check-in..." he slummed. Louis turned around, wondering what he was suggesting. They were already packed for the most part. That would hardly take another half hour. And breakfast they could grab in no time, even eat on the way to the airport. He then understood what Harry was offering. How sly, Styles. I see you.

"Oh...yeah, yeah. I'll be there in just a second," he told him, and Harry tightened his lips and nodded. He stepped inside, starting the shower, letting the water heat itself, as Louis sat wide-eyed at the bed, somewhat shocked by the daring invitation. He wondered since when did he become so nervous and flustered when offered shower sex? Or sex at all? He stood up, taking a deep breath. 

We've already had sex, how is this any different?

He walked into the bathroom, watching the steam arise from the blurry curtain displaying Harry's shadow. He heard him humming, and sighed, looking down at his suddenly shaking hands. What the hell is this?

 

He pulled the curtain back, and Harry didn't even react. Like, it was just so normal and natural and expected. Maybe for any other newlywed couple or pair of lovers, but...Louis dropped the thought when Harry asked him to hand him the shampoo. He turned around, grabbing the small bottle, and handing it over Harry's shoulder. He watched, as the water hit them both, but with him, looking up at Harry's hands running through his hair. Louis swallowed, reaching up and placing his hands over Harry's, who removed his, letting Louis massage his scalp. Louis didn't know how he had come to this, but it didn't feel weird at all. He pushed Harry forward a bit to stand under the shower, to rinse out the shampoo, and heard him laugh.

"What?" Louis asked, and Harry turned around, facing him and looking down at the slightly shorter lad.

"Nothing," he answered, shaking his head, leaning down to kiss Louis, who quickly dodged it, pretending to be hit by too much water in his face by the shower head to really pay attention or kiss back. Harry thought nothing of it, which relieved Louis, because his heart was able to momentarily calm down. "C'mere," Harry directed, and Louis hesitantly stepped closer. Harry squeezed some shampoo into his palm, and ran his hands through Louis's hair, massaging gently, and then repeating with the small bottle of conditioner. Louis laughed softly, because Harry didn't realize he had bigger, stronger hands so he was clueless to the fact that he was rattling Louis's head and making him a little dizzy. It was cute, though. He pulled Harry's hands down, looking up at him, as he washed the conditioner out.

"I've got it from here, thanks," he said to him, receiving a small smile. He let Harry condition, before hearing him wince again. Louis turned him around, realizing the hot water was kind of making the marks Louis had left on his neck kind of sting. "Does it hurt?" he asked, touching the sensitive skin, and frowned at Harry's discomfort. 

"Just a little, I'm fine," he told him, holding his hand over the purple and red marks and scars. Louis frowned even more. Even trying to be "intimate", he had still managed to be a little too rough, less than usual, but Harry wasn't used to him, so he shouldn't have overwhelmed him or attacked his virgin skin so much. ..But he seemed to have liked it last night, so oh well. Louis tip-toed a bit, placing a soft, lingering kiss on the mark, almost apologetically, before standing back down. Harry's eyes lowered to Louis's height, and something erupted in him, as he lifted him up from around his thighs, holding and pressing Louis up against the porcelain wall of the shower, the sound of the hot water running mixing with their increased heart rate and shaky breathing. Louis locked his ankles around Harry's back and wrapped his arms around his neck, as he took revenge on Louis's skin, biting and kissing, and eliciting weak little whimpers and choppy moans from his husband's mouth. Louis tried to fight the feeling, he really did, but he could feel himself getting hard again, and knew Harry could, too, since the obvious indication was between them. 

"H-Harry," he breathed, looking up at the ceiling, giving Harry more access to his neck and jawline.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, but Louis forgot what he was going to say. He closed his eyes, letting Harry leave his marks, and opened them when he felt the touch disappear. He looked forward, to see Harry's face not in front of him. Then his eyes fell at the mop of wet curls kneeling before his waist. 

"Harry, you don't have to--" he began to tell him, but was cut off by the sensation of a tongue running up the underside of his length. He shuddered, knowing Harry's perfect, pink, plump lips were ideal for this, but still... "Harry, I--oh."

Harry suddenly took in what he could manage, compensating for the rest by pumping with his large hand. Louis threw his head back, gasping at how Harry seemed like a pro at this. Which was odd, considering he had been pretty chaste since before yesterday. Louis imagined what he'd be like with practice. Damn. He shook the filthy thought from his mind, but it was hard not to trail off to those fantasies when you were getting blown in a steamy shower by such a beautiful and ridiculously hot Harry Styles. Then the fucker moaned, sending vibrations pulsing through Louis's dainty body, completely overtaking him with the sensation, and causing him to spurt hotly into Harry's mouth. Louis let out a gasp and then sigh, as he came down from his timely high, and felt shivers run up his spine, as Harry kissed up his abdomen and chest, before meeting Louis's eyes again. Louis stared at him, not even blinking, and Harry smiled, proud of himself because he left Louis speechless. 

Eventually, they did realize they were in a shower and a shower had a purpose and they had a flight to catch, so they continued to get ready, finished up the last minute packing. A concierge helped bring their luggage down to the lobby, and Louis had just finished locking the door, when he nearly collided with Harry.

"Oh, shit. Sorry."

"We have time for breakfast," Harry said, once again not outright inviting Louis, but implying that hey, maybe we should get breakfast, just like hey, maybe we should fool around in the shower. Louis nodded, accepting the invitation, following him to the cafe downstairs, before having the concierge load up the taxi cab for them. 

Louis tore apart his croissant, eating little bites at a time, and noticed Harry chuckling at him. He looked up from his plate, and eyed Harry, who sipped his tea, but you could see his cheekbones rising as he hid his smile.

"What?" he asked again, wondering why Harry was smirking and chuckling at little things he was doing.

"I don't know..." he answered, setting his cup down. He reached to place his hand over Louis's, who casually retracted it. Harry looked at him. It was the second time in just that morning he had kind of diverted around Harry's affections. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Louis replied, a little too quickly, looking down at his plate and taking another bite of the pastry. He finished the croissant with the eggs, cheese and sausage sandwiched in between, pretty speedily, earning a furrowed glance from across the table.

"Lou, we have time. Don't eat too fast or you'll get a stomach ache in the cab or the flight," Harry told him, and Louis looked at him. He was sounding all husband-y, and it was freaking him out. This whole thing was freaking him out again.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine," he said back, bitingly, putting Harry a little off. 

"Did I say something wrong?" Harry asked, confused, and Louis sighed, setting his fork down. Harry looked at him, reclining in his chair, waiting for an answer because clearly, the mood had changed. 

"No, I'm just trying to finish my breakfast so we're not late."

"We won't be."

"I know, but just in case--"

"We're ahead of schedule, just calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Louis snapped, suddenly, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you picking fights for no reason?"

"I'm not!"

"You kind of are."

"Harry, just shut the hell up, and let me eat my breakfast."

Harry frowned, looking at him, angrily, and getting up from the table. "Try not to choke," he muttered. "I'll be in the cab." 

Louis scoffed, aggressively biting his food, and glaring over to the door, as Harry tipped the doorman and gave a polite thank you wave to the receptionist. 

When Louis joined him in the cab and their suitcases were in the trunk and the driver headed off to Charles de Gaulle airport, Harry's eyes were back to staring out the window, and Louis flashed back to the art museum fiasco. They arrived at the airport, through security, through check-in, sitting at the gate terminal, and boarding, hardly saying a word to each other.

"I'm sorry," Louis finally spoke, after the plane had taken off and he knew he'd be sitting in close corners with a pissy Harry for the next couple hours.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am, Harry. I just got a little annoyed, and I snapped at you. I'm sorry."

"How often is that going to happen?" Harry asked, turning to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we've been married a week, and we're already bickering over stupid shit. How frequently are we going to just get all short-tempered with each other, particularly you with me?" 

Louis shrugged. "Well, we're getting annulled in six months anyways, so..."

Harry looked at him, his heart sinking.

"....and after you get the finances squared away, what'll it matter?" Louis finished, paying no mind to Harry's facial expression. Harry didn't say anything, forcing himself to fall asleep until they landed at Heathrow. 

He dragged his luggage through the airport in London after baggage claim, walking ahead of Louis, who eventually jogged up to him.

"Why are you rushing now?" he asked him.

"I just want to get home," Harry answered, dryly. Louis's cell phone toned, as he got a text from his friend. Harry looked at him, watching Louis's face light up. "What?"

"My friend got the lease for our apartment," he grinned, happily.

"Whose..?"

"Mine and his.." Louis answered, before realizing what that meant. He looked up at Harry from his phone. "I mean, I've told my mum that I was going to move out after graduation if Stan found a place...and he did."

"Oh."

"And this was all before the marriage thing..."

"I get it."

"And besides, there's no point in me and you living together since this isn't--"

"I said I get it," Harry repeated, sterner. He paused for a moment, stopping outside the passenger pick up platform, and scoffed. "You're really emphasizing this marriage being a fluke, aren't you?"

Louis shrugged again. "Well...I don't know. I mean, it's not..."

Harry smiled, bitterly, scoffing again, as he looked up at the London sky, contrasting it to the Paris one, and just shaking his head, holding back tears he felt so stupid for even letting surface. He felt stupid for a lot of reasons. "Wow..."

"What?"

"You know what, Lou?"

"What? What the hell is wrong now?"

"Just.." Harry shook his head, spotting a cab pulling up. He huffed, biting his lip, and masking his emotions with another sad chuckle.

"What?!" Louis demanded, and froze when he faced Harry's icy glare.

"I'm so stupid for not seeing it...It was just sex and blowjobs and a holiday for you, wasn't it? You can dispose of me soon enough, and that's just--"

"Excuse me?! You practically threw yourself at me, I didn't fucking push you to do anything!" he said, defensively. Oh, hell no. I fucking worked to make it special for you, you ungrateful moody little shit. 

 

"Oh, fuck you, Louis!" Harry barked back, already rolling his suitcase towards the taxi that pulled up.

Louis bit his lip, anger and aggravation boiling over, as he opened his mouth, "Don't you remember a few hours ago, Harry? You just did!"

Harry felt like he'd just been shot in the back and the bullet pierced out through the front of his chest, through his heart. He tossed his luggage in, looking back at Louis with now free-flowing tears of a kind of pain he shouldn't have had to endure. 

Louis stood where he was, questioning himself if those words had really just left his mouth, and when the door slammed on the cab, him not even knowing where the hell Harry was going, he realized yeah, he did.

Fuck, he thought, seeing the car drive by the sidewalk he was still standing at. The worst part was even through the tinted windows of the back passenger side, he could still see Harry beginning to sob.


End file.
